[Illustration: "The man was thrown overboard by the accident." See page
17.]
THE YOUNG BRIDGE-TENDER
OR
Ralph Nelson's Upward Struggle
BY
ARTHUR M. WINFIELD
AUTHOR OF
"The Young Bank Clerk," "Mark Dale's Stage Venture,"
"Rover Boys Series," etc.
NEW YORK AND LONDON
STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1902
By STREET & SMITH
The Young Bridge-Tender
CONTENTS.
I A Question of Property 9
II The Smash at the Bridge 14
III Ralph Makes a Friend 20
IV The Quarrel on the Bridge 26
V A Hunt for the Missing Bill 32
VI Mrs. Nelson's Story 37
VII Percy's Home 43
VIII Squire Paget Makes a Move 49
IX At the General Store 55
X Ralph is Given Notice 62
XI The Runaway 68
XII Ralph's Reward 74
XIII On Big Silver Lake 81
XIV A Stormy Time 88
XV Looking for Work 94
XVI Percy Hears Something 101
XVII A Midnight Crime 107
XVIII About a Pocket-knife 114
XIX About the Robbery 120
XX Out on Bail 126
XXI Squire Paget's Visit 133
XXII Ralph's New Situation 140
XXIII Strange Passengers 146
XXIV Ralph's Rough Experience 153
XXV Squire Paget's News 160
XXVI On the Island 166
XXVII The Meeting in the Woods 172
XXVIII Ralph in the City 179
XXIX Penniless 185
XXX The Sharper is Outwitted 191
XXXI On the Bowery 198
XXXII New Employment 205
XXXIII Squire Paget's Move 211
XXXIV The Squire in Hot Water 218
XXXV Ralph a Prisoner 225
XXXVI Mickety to the Rescue 231
XXXVII Martin is Trapped 237
XXXVIII Beginning of the End 242
XXXIX A Surprise at Chambersburgh 246
XL The Exposure--Conclusion 251
THE YOUNG BRIDGE TENDER.
CHAPTER I.
A QUESTION OF PROPERTY.
"It's a shame, mother! The property belonged to father and the village has
no right to its use without paying for it."
"I agree with you, Ralph," replied Mrs. Nelson. "But what are we to do in
the matter?"
"Why don't you speak to Squire Paget? He is the president of the village
board."
"I have spoken to him, but he will give me no satisfaction. He claims that
the village has the right to nearly all the water front within its limits,"
replied Mrs. Nelson, with a sigh.
"It hasn't a right to the land father bought and paid for."
"That is what I said."
"And what did he answer to that?" questioned Ralph Nelson, with increasing
interest.
"He said he doubted if your father had really bought the land. He asked me
to show him the papers in the case."
"And those you haven't got."
"No, I cannot find them. Your father placed them away, and when he died so
suddenly, he said nothing about where they had been placed. I have an idea
he gave them to somebody for safe keeping."
"It's a pity we haven't the papers, mother. The property on which this end
of the swinging bridge rests, and the land right around it, is going to be
very valuable some day; I heard Mr. Hooker say so at the post office only
yesterday."
"I have no doubt of it, Ralph, when Westville becomes a city instead of a
village. But that is many years off, I imagine."
"I suppose it is--the village folks are so slow to make improvements. It's
a wonder they ever put up the bridge across to Eastport."
"They wouldn't have done it had it not been for Eastport capitalists, who
furnished nearly all of the money."
"And now, that the bridge has been up several years, and the tolls are
coming in daily, I suppose they are glad they let the structure go up."
"To be sure. Folks like to see a paying improvement."
"Well, about this property business, mother; do you think we can find those
missing papers?" went on Ralph, after a pause.
"I am sure I hope so, my son. But where to start to look for them, I
haven't the least idea."
"We might advertise for them."
"Yes, we might, but I doubt if it would do any good. If any one around here
had them they would give them to us without the advertising."
"They would unless they hoped to make something out of it," replied Ralph,
suddenly, struck with a new idea.
"Make something, Ralph? What do you mean."
"Perhaps the one holding the papers intends to keep them and some day claim
the land as his own."
"Oh, I do not believe any one would be so dishonest," cried Mrs. Nelson.
"I do, mother. There are just as mean folks in Westville as anywhere else."
"But they would not dare to defraud us openly."
"Some folks would dare do anything for money," replied Ralph Nelson, with a
decided nod of his curly head.
Ralph was the only son of his widowed mother. His father, Randolph Nelson,
had been in former years a boatman on Keniscot Lake. When the swinging
bridge had been built between Westville and Eastport, Mr. Nelson had been
appointed bridge tender.
The old boatman had occupied his position at the bridge, taking tolls and
opening the structure for passing vessels for exactly two years. Then, one
blustery and rainy day he had slipped into the water, and before he could
manage to save himself, had been struck by the bow of a steamboat and
seriously hurt.
Mr. Nelson had been taken from the water almost immediately after being
wounded, and all that could be done was done for him, but without avail.
He was unconscious, and only came to himself long enough to bid his weeping
wife and only child a tender farewell. Thirty-six hours after the accident
he was dead, and his funeral occurred three days later.
For a time Mrs. Nelson and Ralph were nearly prostrated by the calamity
that had taken place. But stern necessity soon compelled them to put aside
their grief. Although Mr. Nelson owned a small cottage close to the bridge,
he had left but a small amount--less than a hundred dollars--in cash behind
him. They must work to support themselves.
Ralph's father had been appointed bridge tender for a period of three
years, and the son applied for the balance of his parent's term. His
application was objected to by Squire Paget, who wished to put Dan Pickley,
a village idler, in the place, but the bridge board overruled him, and Mrs.
Nelson was appointed to fill her husband's situation--every one knowing
that Ralph was to do the work.
The pay was not large--only six dollars per week--but, as the Nelsons had
no rent to pay, they managed to get along quite comfortably. There was a
vegetable garden attached to the cottage, and during his spare time Ralph
worked in this. His mother also took in sewing, and they had now saved
sixty dollars for a rainy day.
Westville and Eastport were situated on the two sides of a narrow channel
which united Big Silver Lake, sometimes called Keniscot Lake, on the north
with Silver Lake on the south. The upper lake was several miles long, while
the lower sheet of water, which emptied into the Ramapo River at
Chambersburgh, was less than half the size.
Westville had always been a backward town, due mostly to the
short-sightedness of Squire Paget, Mr. Hooker, the postmaster, and other
narrow-minded leading men, who never saw fit to offer any inducements to
manufacturers and others to locate there. The village consisted of
half-a-dozen stores, a blacksmith shop, a tavern, and less than
seventy-five houses. There was one hat factory there, but this was closed
more than half the time.
Eastport, on the other hand, was booming. It had two hat factories, three
planing mills, a furniture works and a foundry. There were several blocks
of stores, lit up at night by electric lights, and several hundred houses.
Real estate, too, was advancing rapidly.
The Nelsons had owned their cottage and the land upon which it stood for
many years, but a year previous to the building of the bridge Mr. Nelson
had added nearly half an acre to his ground, purchasing it very cheaply
from a fellow-boatman, who had left Westville and struck out for some place
in the West. This was the ground which was now in dispute. The papers in
reference to it were missing, and as the sale had never been recorded, it
was likely that Mrs. Nelson and Ralph would have much trouble in obtaining
their rights.
CHAPTER II.
THE SMASH AT THE BRIDGE.
During the conversation recorded above, Ralph had been at work in the
dooryard of the cottage, while his mother was busy tying up the honeysuckle
vines which grew over the porch. It was a bright summer day, with a stiff
breeze blowing from the southwest.
"There's a sloop coming up Silver Lake, Ralph!" cried his mother,
presently, as she looked across the water from the cottage porch. "I guess
you will have to open the bridge."
"I haven't heard any horn," returned Ralph, as he dropped his rake and ran
up to look at the craft.
"Nor I. But the boat is heading for the draw."
"Perhaps it's one of those summer-boarder pleasure parties, that don't know
anything about blowing for a bridge tender," said the son, after a few
seconds of silence. "I'll go down and make sure."
Ralph was as good as his word. Leaving the door, he walked rapidly along a
footpath which led directly to the bridge, arriving there in less than a
minute and a half.
As he walked on the bridge a carriage from Eastport, containing several
ladies, came over. They paid the toll to Bob Sanderson, an old man who
helped Ralph in this way during the slack hours of the day. In return for
the work Sanderson was allowed an attic room and board at the Nelson
cottage.
"Sixteen cents since you went away, Ralph," said Sanderson, as he handed
over the amount in pennies. "Ain't many folks out this morning."
"There will be more toward noon, Mr. Sanderson. Travel is always light
between nine and eleven."
"That's so. My! but there's a stiff breeze a-blowin', ain't there?"
"Yes. If it keeps on we'll have a regular gale by night."
"What brought you back so soon? I thought you was goin' to whitewash your
side fence?"
"I came down to see if that sloop wanted to go through. It's sailing right
for the draw."
"They didn't blow no horn."
"Perhaps they don't know enough for that. I declare! What's he up to now?"
went on Ralph, a second later.
He had espied a single man standing in the stern of the sloop. The man had
commenced to work at the mainsail, the managing of which appeared to bother
him not a little.
"He don't seem to know the ropes," returned Bob Sanderson. "I guess he's
tryin' to lower sail and can't."
"He is carrying too much canvas for this breeze."
"I agree with you, Ralph. But most of them chaps with sloops are a daring
set. They always want to sail at racing speed."
"He wants to go through that draw, that's certain," responded Ralph.
Going into the little house at the end of the bridge, he got out the key
and the handle-bar. He unlocked the chain which held the end of the bridge
in position, and then inserting the bar into the turnpost or capstan, began
to walk around with it.
Slowly but surely the bridge began to swing loose from the side which
connected with the permanent portion on the Eastport end and moved toward
the solid foundation which was built directly in front of where the Nelson
dooryard ran down to the water's edge.
It was hard work to move the bridge around, but Ralph was used to it, and
he did not mind. As he walked around with the bar before him he kept his
eyes on the sloop and the man sailing her.
The bridge was three-quarters open when the boy noted with some surprise
that the man on the sloop had thrown over the mainsail half against the
wind. Instantly the sloop began to swing around, heading full for the stone
pier upon which the bridge swung.
"Why, what's the matter with him?" he cried, in dismay.
"Guess he don't know how to manage his boat," replied Bob Sanderson. "He's
comin' chuck-a-block for this place!"
"Hi! hi! what are you up to?" cried Ralph, as he dropped the bar, and
rushed over to the side of the bridge. "Do you want to run into the
stonework?"
"I can't manage the sail!" replied the man on the sloop. "My arm is lame,
and the ropes are all twisted."
"Well, throw your tiller over, and be quick, or----"
Ralph had not time to say more, nor was the man able to profit by his
advice. An extra heavy puff of wind caught the mainsail of the boat, and
with a loud crash she clashed into the stone pier, bow first.
The shock was so great that the bowsprit was smashed to pieces, as was also
the woodwork around it. The man, who had been standing partly on the stern
sheets, was thrown overboard by the accident, and he disappeared beneath
the water.
Fearful that the fellow, who was evidently a city person, might not be able
to swim, Ralph leaped down from the bridge into the sloop and went to his
assistance.
"Save me! save me!" called out the man, frantically, and he threw his hands
up over his head.
"Catch hold of the boathook," replied Ralph, and he reached out with the
article as he spoke.
The man grasped the curved iron nervously, and Ralph at once drew him to
the side of the sloop.
"Now give me your hand and I will help you up."
And without waiting he caught the man by the right arm.
"Don't! don't! Take the other arm, please! That was broken less than six
weeks ago."
"Oh, then give me the left," replied Ralph; and by his aid the man was soon
aboard the sloop once more.
He was a fellow not over twenty-five years of age, and his clothing and
general appearance indicated that he was well-to-do.
"Phew! But that was a narrow escape!" he ejaculated, as he brushed the
water from his face. "I was afraid I was a goner, sure!"
"Couldn't you keep away from the stonework?" questioned Ralph, curiously.
"No. The ropes got twisted into a knot and my right arm hurt so I could
only use my left hand. Besides, I am not much of a sailor."
"I seen you wasn't," put in Bob Sanderson, who did not hesitate at times to
speak out bluntly. "If it hadn't been for Ralph you would have been
drowned."
"I don't doubt it, for I cannot swim."
"How came you to be out in such a blow and all alone?" asked Ralph, as he
began to lower the ship's sails.
"It didn't blow so when I started from Chambersburgh, and I fancied I could
manage the _Magic_ without half trying. But I have found out my mistake
now," and the man gave a sorry little laugh. "Are you the bridge tender?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what is your name?"
"Ralph Nelson."
"Mine is Horace Kelsey. You are rather young for this position, are you
not?"
"It was my father's before he died. I am serving the rest of the time for
which he was appointed."
"I see. Does it pay you?"
"I earn six dollars a week at it. That's considered pretty good here in
Westville. There are many who would like to get the job."
"I came up here from New York to spend a few weeks boating and fishing,"
said Horace Kelsey, during a pause, in which he dried off his face and
hands, and wrung the water from his coat. "This is my first day out, and it
has ended rather disastrously."
"I guess your sloop can easily be repaired," replied Ralph.
"I suppose it can. Is there any one here in the village who does such
work?"
"That's in my line," put in Bob Sanderson, promptly.
"Yes, Mr. Sanderson repairs boats," replied Ralph. "He will give you a good
job at a reasonable price."
"Then you can go to work at once," said Horace Kelsey, turning to the old
fisherman. "Do your best, and I will pay whatever it is worth."
"I will, sir."
"When can you have the work completed?"
"Not before to-morrow night. I'll have to paint the parts, you know."
"I am in no hurry. I wished to spend a day or two around Westville and
Eastport before going up into Big Silver Lake."
"Then I'll take the sloop around to my boat-house right now," replied Bob
Sanderson; and off he went with the craft, leaving Ralph and the newcomer
on the bridge.
CHAPTER III.
RALPH MAKES A FRIEND.
"You'll catch cold if you stand around in this wind," remarked Ralph to
Horace Kelsey, "especially as you are not used to it."
"That is true," returned the young man. "I wish I had some place where I
might dry myself."
"You can go over to our cottage, if you wish. Mother is at home, and she
will willingly let you dry yourself at the kitchen fire. I would lend you
one of my suits, but I imagine it wouldn't be large enough."
"Hardly," laughed the young man. "Do you live far from here?"
"No, sir; that is the cottage right there. See, my mother is in the garden,
looking this way."
"Thanks, I'll take up with your kind offer. I am beginning to get chilled
in spite of the sunshine."
Saying that he would be back later, Horace Kelsey left the bridge and took
the path leading to the cottage. Ralph saw him speak to his mother, and a
moment later both passed into the cottage.
It was now drawing toward noon, and the people began to cross the bridge in
both directions, on their way to dinner. Each one either paid a cent or
passed over a ticket, sixty-five of which could be had for fifty cents. At
a quarter to one the same passengers began to go back to their work, and
this was kept up for half an hour, at the end of which the young bridge
tender had collected twenty-one cents and forty-three tickets.
Several horns now began to blow from both Big Silver and Silver Lakes,
showing that the boats wished to pass through the draw. The bridge, which
had been closed by Ralph immediately after the rescue of Horace Kelsey, was
opened for their accommodation.
While the young bridge tender was waiting for the last vessel to clear the
draw the young man from New York came back from the cottage, bringing with
him the lunch Mrs. Nelson usually brought herself. There was no time for
dinner during the middle of the day, and so the family had their principal
meal at night, when the draw was closed for the day, and Bob Sanderson went
on to collect the toll.
"Your mother gave me the lunch," said Horace Kelsey, as he handed the
basket to Ralph. "I told her I was coming down to see you."
"Is your clothing dry?"
"Oh, yes. She was kind enough to lend me some which had belonged to your
father, and built up an extra hot fire to dry my own. She also pressed out
my suit, as you can see. Your mother is a very accommodating lady."
Horace Kelsey did not add that he had paid Mrs. Nelson liberally for her
kindness, for he was not one to brag in that direction. Nevertheless, Ralph
heard of it later on.
In the basket were several sandwiches of cold corned beef and half-a-dozen
peaches. Ralph offered one of the peaches to the young man, which he took,
and both sat down to eat.
"You will find a tavern up the main road, a two minutes' walk from here,"
began the youth, thinking that Horace Kelsey might wish for something more
substantial in the way of food.
"Thank you, but your mother supplied me with a very good lunch while I was
waiting, Ralph," returned the young man. "Don't mind me, but go ahead and
enjoy your lunch."
Ralph at once set to, for he was hungry. His companion looked up the lake
for a moment in silence, and then went on:
"I came down here to reward you, Ralph," he said, hesitatingly.
"Reward me? What for, Mr. Kelsey?"
"For saving my life."
"I don't think I did as much as that. Anybody could have pulled you from
the water."
"They might not have been as quick as you were. I feel I owe you something
for your prompt aid."
"I don't want anything, sir. I would have done as much for any one."
"I do not doubt it, and it is to your credit to say so. But I feel I ought
to do something for you. Will you accept this--not as payment for what was
done, for I could not pay for that in this way--but as a gift from a
friend?"
And Horace Kelsey drew from his vest pocket a new and crisp twenty-dollar
bill.
"I don't see as I ought to take it," hesitated Ralph.
"But you will. Here, don't let it blow overboard," and the young man from
New York thrust it into Ralph's hand, directly between a sandwich he was
holding.
"Indeed I won't let it blow away. I thank you ver--hallo! you have made a
big mistake."
"How?"
"This is a twenty-dollar bill."
"I see no mistake about that," and Horace Kelsey smiled quietly.
"You don't mean to say you meant to give me twenty dollars?"
"I did. It is little enough for such a service."
"It's too much. I thought it was a one-dollar bill, sir."
"I would not be mean enough to offer you only a dollar, Ralph. A man isn't
pulled from a watery grave, as the poets call it, every day."
"I don't think I ought to take all this money," returned the young bridge
tender slowly.
"I do, so put it into your pocket and say no more about it."
Ralph continued to argue the point, but was finally persuaded to place the
bill in his private purse.
"Your mother has been telling me a little about your family affairs," went
on Horace Kelsey. "It's a pity you haven't a clear title to this land about
here."
"We have a clear enough title if only we can find the papers in this case,"
returned Ralph, promptly.
"I understand a syndicate from Chambersburgh are thinking of locating a big
shoe factory here. If they do that, Westville will have a boom."
"It would have boomed long ago if it hadn't been for Squire Paget and some
others. They hold their land so high and keep the taxes on the hat factory
up so, the manufacturers are scared away."
"That is true, especially when other places donate them land free and
exempt them from all taxation for from five to ten years."
"Do they do that?"
"Certainly, and in many cases it pays very well, for the factories employ
hundreds of hands, who receive fair wages, and that is spent in the place
where it is earned."
"It's a wonder that shoe factory would come here, if such inducements are
offered elsewhere," said Ralph, thoughtfully.
"I understand several men, including Squire Paget and the postmaster of
this place, have received stock in the concern. I do not know much about
the deal. I only heard it talked over at the hotel."
"Where are they going to locate the factory?"
"Somewhere along the water front, I believe."
"Then it will be around here!" cried Ralph. "That is our land over there,"
he pointed with his hand. "I wish we could prove our title to it."
"So do I, Ralph, and I wish I could help you. You haven't any idea who had
the papers last?"
"No, sir."
"Too bad. I would advertise for them, and even offer a reward for them."
"I will," returned Ralph, quickly. "I'll use this twenty dollars you have
given me for that very purpose."
Horace Kelsey remained with Ralph the best part of an hour longer, and then
started for a walk through the village, stating that he would call on Bob
Sanderson and see how the boat repairing was progressing.
When he was out of sight, Ralph pulled the twenty-dollar bill from his
purse to make sure that he had not been dreaming. But there was the money
true enough. There was a grease spot on one corner of the bill, left by the
butter on the sandwich, but this did no harm.
"Hallo, there, Ralph Nelson, counting your fortune!" cried a rude voice
from the shore, and looking up, Ralph saw a loudly-dressed youth
approaching. He hastily slipped the twenty-dollar bill into his pocket.
CHAPTER IV.
THE QUARREL ON THE BRIDGE.
The boy on the shore was Percy Paget, the squire's only son. He was a year
older than Ralph, and somewhat taller and heavier. His ways were arrogant
to the last degree, and in the village he had but few friends, and these
only because he generally had pocket money to spend.
On several occasions Ralph had had sharp words with Percy because the
latter wished to do as he pleased on the bridge, against the printed rules
that were posted up. Because his parent was squire, Percy imagined he could
do almost anything and it would be all right.
"I say, are you counting your fortune?" repeated Percy, throwing as much of
a sneer into his tones as possible.
"Unfortunately, I haven't any fortune to count, Percy," returned the young
bridge tender, good-naturedly.
"Humph! I suppose you mean that for a pun, don't you?" growled the son of
the squire. "If you do, let me tell you it's a mighty poor one."
"I hadn't intended to pun, Percy."
"I didn't think so, for you haven't the brains. Didn't I see you counting
some money just now?"
"I was looking at a bank bill."
"That you got on the bridge, I suppose?"
"No; it was a bill of my own."
"Oh, I thought you had to use all the money you made here."
"I have to use the most of it. My pay isn't any too large, as you know."
"Yes, but I guess you make enough besides," returned Percy, suggestively.
"What do you mean?"
"You've got plenty of chance on the bridge, with so many odd pennies coming
in."
"Do you mean to insinuate I steal the toll money?" demanded Ralph, angered
at the insinuation.
"I didn't say so," sneered the other, more suggestively than ever.
"But you meant it."
"Well, what if I did?"
"It's mean of you, Percy Paget! I never stole a cent in my life!"
"It's easy enough for you to say so."
"And it's true. You must think that every one is a thief just because
somebody was caught stealing tarts out of the bakery."
Ralph was angry, or he would not have spoken as he did. As Percy had been
discovered taking tarts and cakes from the counters of a pastry shop in
Eastport only a few weeks before, and as he had been threatened with arrest
for so doing, the squire's son reddened at once.
"See here, Ralph Nelson, don't you dare to talk to me like that!" he
stormed.
"I have more grounds to talk than you, Percy Paget!"
"No, you haven't, you low upstart!"
"Hold on, Percy, I am no upstart!"
"Yes, you are. What was your father? Only a poor boatman on the lakes."
"He was a hard-working man, and an honest one," returned Ralph, warmly.
"Oh, of course, and you were all next door to beggars until my father took
pity on him, and gave him the job on the bridge."
"It was the committee, and not your father, who gave him the situation."
"Well, it was the same thing, for the committee have to do as my father
says."
"I doubt it."
"I don't care for your opinion! I know one thing. They ought to have
somebody else to mind the bridge, and perhaps they will have before long."
"Why, what do you mean?" asked Ralph, in quick alarm.
"Ha! ha! I thought that would wake you up."
"Is somebody trying to undermine me?"
"You'll hear of it soon enough, never fear."
And with this parting shot, which was not without its effect, Percy started
to cross the bridge.
"Hold on!" cried Ralph.
"What do you want now?"
"The toll money."
"I'm only going to the Eastport end of the bridge. I'll be back in a couple
of minutes."
"That makes no difference. Every one who crosses the bridge has to pay
toll."
"But I'm coming right back."
"I don't care if you return as soon as you strike the last plank. You have
got to pay, or you can't cross," returned Ralph, firmly.
"I won't pay a cent!" blustered Percy, angrily.
"Then you can't cross."
"And who will stop me, I'd like to know?"
"I will."
"You can't do it."
"Perhaps I can. Anyway, if you don't pay I'll try. You know the rules just
as well as I do."
"There ain't any fellow in Westville can stop me from going where I
please!" howled the squire's son, and once more he started to walk on.
With a quick movement, Ralph stepped in front of the aristocratic bully.
"Not another step, until you pay the toll!" he exclaimed, his eyes flashing
their determination.
"Out of my way, you upstart!" roared Percy.
And, raising his fist, he aimed a heavy blow at Ralph's face.
The young bridge tender caught the blow on the arm, and the next moment had
Percy jammed up against the iron railing to one side.
"Now, you either pay your way or go back just as quick as you can!" he
said, firmly. "I want no more trouble with you."
"Let go of me!"
"Not until you promise to do one thing or the other."
"I'm not going to pay!" fumed Percy.
"Then you can't cross; that's settled."
"We'll see! Take that! and that!"
Percy began to strike out wildly. Ralph warded off most of the blows, and
then upset the aristocratic bully on his back and came down on top of him.
They rolled over together, and at length Percy set up a howl of pain.
"Oh, my shoulder! You have twisted it out of place!"
"Have you had enough?" demanded Ralph.
"Yes! yes!"
"Will you pay the toll?"
"I don't want to go over now."
"All right, then, you can go back to shore."
Ralph arose to his feet, and the aristocratic bully slowly followed.
Several persons were coming across the bridge now, and the young bridge
tender ran to collect their tolls, leaving his late antagonist to brush off
his sadly-soiled clothes.
"I'll fix you for this!" cried Percy, after the passengers had passed out
of hearing. "We'll see if the village will allow a ruffian like you to tend
bridge much longer."
And off he stalked, with his face full of dark and bitter hatred.
Ralph looked after him anxiously. Would Percy's threat amount to anything?
It would be a real calamity to lose his situation on the bridge.
Then Ralph started to brush off his own clothes. While he was doing so he
felt in his pocket to see if his twenty dollars was still safe. The bill
was gone!
With great eagerness he began a search for the missing banknote. It was all
to no purpose, the money could not be found.
CHAPTER V.
A HUNT FOR THE MISSING BILL.
Ralph was deeply chagrined to think that the twenty-dollar bill could not
be found. He had calculated that with it he might advertise for the missing
papers, and even offer a small reward.
He was loath to give up the search, and after his first hasty hunt, went
over every foot of the plank walk of the bridge, and even under it.
"It must have slipped from my pocket, and the wind must have blown it into
the water," he thought, bitterly. "That was a pretty dear quarrel,
especially as it was not in the least of my making."
Thinking he might possibly find the bill floating on the water, the young
bridge tender sprang into his rowboat, the _Martha_, which was tied up to
the ironwork under the bridge, and pulled around the stonework and some
distance down into Silver Lake.
He found nothing, and inside of ten minutes had to go back to his post of
duty and collect toll from several people who were coming over from
Eastport.
"I'm out twenty dollars, and that's all there is to it," he muttered to
himself. "It's too bad. Why can't Percy Paget stay away and mind his own
business?"
The remainder of the afternoon passed quietly, saving for the mild
excitement of the working folks going and coming after factory hours, and
at dark Bob Sanderson came on duty.
"The sloop is gettin' on finely," said the old fellow, in response to
Ralph's inquiry. "The woodwork is about done, and I'll paint her first
thing in the morning."
"You want to make a first-class job of it, Mr. Sanderson. I know Mr. Kelsey
will pay the price."
"I'm a-going to, Ralph. What did he give you for hauling him from the
water?"
"Twenty dollars."
"Shoo! He must be rich."
"I imagine he is."
"What are you going to do with the money?"
"Nothing; I've lost it."
"Lost it?"
"Yes."
And Ralph related the particulars of his encounter with Percy Paget, and
how the money had disappeared during the fracas.
"It's a tarnal shame, Ralph! Thet air dude ain't worth your twenty-dollar
bill nohow!"
"I am sorry he came here. I hope he stays away hereafter."
"I wouldn't take none of his talk," grumbled Bob Sanderson, with a shake of
his grizzled head. "I reckon what he said about gettin' you into trouble is
all nonsense."
"I hope it is, for I couldn't afford to lose my place here."
"Squire Paget isn't so powerful as his son thinks. There are lots of folks
in this village gettin' tired of his domineerin' ways."
"I know he is not as powerful now as he was, but still he is squire, and
that counts."
"Why don't you go on another hunt for the bill? Maybe it has floated away
down the lake."
"I will go out. It will do no harm," said Ralph.
And neither did it do any good, for a half-hour's search on the lake and
along the shore brought nothing of interest to light. The young bridge
tender tied his boat up at the foot of the garden, and walked up to the
cottage.
Mrs. Nelson had the evening meal all prepared, and the two at once sat
down.
"You sent a very profitable visitor to the cottage this morning, Ralph,"
began his mother, as she poured the tea while he cut up the meat.
"You mean Mr. Kelsey?"
"Yes. He came here to get dry, and told me how you had rescued him from the
lake. He said you had acted very bravely."
"It was not much to do. But why do you say he was a profitable visitor,
mother? Did he pay you anything for what you did?"
"Yes, he paid me two dollars. I didn't want a cent, but he insisted on
it."
"Then he is certainly rich, mother, for he gave me twenty dollars in
addition."
"Why, Ralph!"
"But, hold on, mother, don't be too pleased. I have already lost the money,
so his generosity will do me no good."
And Ralph told his mother the story, just as he had told it to old Bob
Sanderson, their boarder.
"That Paget boy is a bad egg, I am afraid," said Mrs. Nelson, with a grave
look on her face. "I am sorry you got into trouble with him."
"So am I, but it couldn't be helped. The bridge rules say that no person is
to cross without paying toll. Percy knows the rules, too."
"I understand he has caused the squire a lot of trouble, but for all that,
he is his father's pet."
"It's strange, if Percy gives him so much trouble."
"Well, the two are alone in the world, and that may make a difference. Have
we not been drawn closer together since your father died?"
"That is true, mother, but I try to do right, and--"
"You do what is right, Ralph. As much as I love you, I would not stand by
you were you to do a deliberate wrong."
"I don't believe Percy will do much," said Ralph, after a long pause. "I
was sticking up for the rules, and that is what I am put there to do."
After the supper dishes were cleared away, Mrs. Nelson put on her bonnet
and took a basket to do a little trading at one of the stores, leaving
Ralph to take care of the cottage while she was gone.
"I'll go along and carry the things for you, if you wish," said her son.
"I am going to get a few things, Ralph, which will not be heavy, and I wish
to see Mr. Dicks about the calico he sold me which is not as good as he
represented. You may stay home and read."
"I'll study my school books, mother. I want to master commercial arithmetic
if I can. Maybe one of these days I can become a bookkeeper in one of the
Eastport factories."
"I trust so, my son, that or something even better. I would not wish you to
remain a bridge tender all your life."
A moment later Mrs. Nelson was on her way to the village center. Ralph lit
the sitting-room lamp and got out his books and his slate. Soon he had
forgotten all about the exciting scenes of the day in an earnest endeavor
to do a complicated example in profit and loss.
He worked out the problem, and then tackled something harder still. Not
having anyone to guide him, he made numerous mistakes. But he kept on
without becoming disheartened and at last the second example was solved as
correctly as the first.
He was just about to begin a third, when his mother entered the cottage
almost breathlessly. From the look on her face it was plain to see she had
something to tell that was of great importance.
CHAPTER VI.
MRS. NELSON'S STORY.
"What is it, mother?" cried Ralph, as Mrs. Nelson placed her basket on the
floor and dropped into a chair.
"Oh, Ralph! I can hardly believe it possible!" exclaimed the good woman,
catching her breath.
"Believe what possible?"
"That Percy Paget would be so wicked!"
"Why, what has he done, now, mother?"
"Ralph, I believe he took your twenty-dollar bill!"
"What makes you think that?"
And in his excitement the boy shoved back his books and slate and sprang to
his feet.
"From what I overheard down to Mr. Dicks' store, while I was doing my
trading."
"What did you overhear?"
"His son William waited on me, and while he was doing it his father began
to count the money in the drawer, and then asked who had paid in the
twenty-dollar bill."
"And what did Will Dicks say?" questioned Ralph, eagerly.
"He said he had got the bill from Percy Paget."
"He did! It must be my bill."
"So I thought, and came home as quickly as I could to tell you."
"Percy has lots of spending money, but I doubt if he has twenty dollars at
a time," went on Ralph, walking up and down the sitting-room in his
thoughtfulness. "But to think he would turn pickpocket!"
"Maybe the money fell from your pocket during the quarrel, and he picked it
up."
"It would be just as bad as stealing. He knew it was my money. He saw me
put the money in my pocket when he came on the bridge."
"It would certainly seem that it was your bill."
"I'll go down and question Will Dicks about it. Or, perhaps, you did so?"
"No, I only listened to what he told his father, and then came home. If you
go down, Ralph, be careful and avoid more trouble."
"If it is really my bill I am not going to stand being cheated."
"Remember, Squire Paget is an influential man----"
"I don't believe his influence will count in this case. But I will be
careful," Ralph added, to overcome his mother's anxiety.
Without further words, he put on his coat and hurried down into the
village. When he reached Uriah Dicks' general store he found father and son
in the act of putting up the shutters for the night.
"I would like to see you a minute, Will," Ralph said to the son.
"All right," returned Will Dicks, and, leaving his father to place the last
of the shutters up, he led the way inside the store.
"I believe Percy Paget paid you a twenty-dollar bill this afternoon," began
Ralph, hardly knowing how to open the conversation.
"He paid it to me just before supper time."
"Did he say anything about where he got it?"
"Why, no. Why do you ask?"
"I have my reasons, Will. Will you let me see the bill?"
"What's the trouble?" asked Will Dicks, and his father stepped into the
doorway to hear what the young bridge tender might have to say.
"I would like to see the bill, that is all."
"But, can't you tell me what the trouble is?" insisted Will Dicks.
"Maybe Ralph intends to accuse Percy of obtaining it feloniously," put in
Uriah Dicks, cautiously. "Speak up, boy, and let us know what's in your
mind."
"I would rather not say, Mr. Dicks. I wish to look at the bill, that is
all."
"Well, if you can't tell me of the trouble, I don't know as I will let you
see that bill," returned Uriah, sourly.
"And what is your objection?"
"I ain't a-going to be accommodating to a boy that puts me off in the
dark."
"It may save you some trouble, Mr. Dicks."
"What, me? What do you mean?" and the general storekeeper turned slightly
pale.
"Just what I say! If you won't let me see the bill, I'll have to go further
for my information."
"Oh, of course I ain't scared to show you this bill, Ralph," returned
Uriah, hurriedly. "Say!" he burst out, excitedly. "It's a good bill, ain't
it?"
"It ought to be, if it's the one I think it is," replied the young bridge
tender.
Going to his desk in the rear of the store, Uriah brought out a tin box and
unlocked it. From a long, flat wallet, he drew several bills.
"There's the bill Percy Paget gave to Will," he said, as he handed over the
banknote.
There was but a single oil-lamp left burning in the store, and to this
Ralph walked and examined the bill. There was his banknote, true enough,
with the grease spot from the sandwich in one corner.
"Well, what do you make out?" questioned Uriah, with breathless interest.
"I make out that this bill belongs to me," returned Ralph, boldly.
"To you!" exclaimed both father and son, in one voice.
"Yes, sir, to me."
"But Percy gave me this bill," said Will Dicks. "He didn't steal it from
you, did he?"
"I haven't anything to say about that. But it's my bill, just the same."
"You can't have the bill!" snarled Uriah, snatching it from Ralph's hand.
"Why, I never heard tell of such high-handed proceedings in my life
before!" he went on.
"You can keep the bill for the present, Mr. Dicks----"
"Of course I will! Do you suppose I'm going to lose twenty dollars?"
"But you must promise me not to give it out until you hear from me again."
"I don't see what right you have to dictate to me what I should do an' what
I shouldn't do----"
"I am not dictating. The bill is mine, and I intend to have it, sooner or
later."
"But where do we come in?" asked Will Dicks, who was cooler than his
parent.
"You will have to look to Percy Paget to make the loss good."
"If he has cheated me I'll have him locked up!" cried Uriah, drawing down
his sharp face. "But you haven't proved the bill yours yet."
"I know that. All I am asking is that you keep the bill for the present,
and not pay it out to any one."
"Well, I'll do that," responded Uriah, after some meditation.
"You'll hear from me again, soon," concluded Ralph, as he walked from the
store.
"Well, he carries a high hand, I must say!" growled Uriah, as he put his
money and the tin box away again. "I wonder what the trouble is?"
"I thought it was queer Percy had so big a bill," commented his son.
"Did you? Well, if you did, what did you want to change it for?"
"He bought half a dozen packages of cigarettes."
"Humph! Hardly any profit in 'em, and the bill likely to get us into
trouble, William! You must be more careful!"
"Percy said I could hang up the account if I didn't want to change the
bill, and you said you didn't want to trust any of the young fellows."
"No more I don't. But I ain't goin' to lose twenty dollars. I'll make that
Nelson boy prove it's his, or he sha'n't tech it; no, sir!"
And with a thump of his hard and skinny fist on the counter, Uriah Dicks
resumed the labor of closing up his establishment for the night.
"Nelson looked as if he had it in for Percy," soliloquized Will Dicks, as
he brought in the few boxes and barrels that remained outside. "I would
like to know what is in the wind."
His father also wished to know. It was not long before they were
enlightened.
CHAPTER VII.
PERCY'S HOME.
For a few minutes Ralph stood outside of the general store, undecided what
was best to do next.
It was true that the bill in Uriah Dicks' possession was his own, yet how
could he prove it, and thus get it once more into his possession?
"I'll call on Percy Paget, and see what he has to say," he thought.
"Perhaps I can make him confess how he obtained the bill, and make the
amount good to Mr. Dicks."
With this object in view the young bridge tender hurried through the
village toward the hill, upon which the few handsome residences of the
place were situated.
In the most prominent spot was located the mansion of Squire Paget, a Queen
Anne structure, surrounded by a garden full of fancy shrubs and plants,
which during her life had been Mrs. Paget's pride.
Passing through the gate, Ralph walked up the gravel path to the front
piazza and rang the bell.
He had to wait a short time. Then a slow step was heard through the
hallway, and the door was opened by Mrs. Hanson, the squire's housekeeper.
"Good-evening," said Ralph, politely. "Is Percy at home?"
"I don't really know," returned Mrs. Hanson. "Come in and I will find out."
She ushered Ralph into the hallway, and motioned him to a seat. Then she
passed upstairs.
"I guess it will be all right, squire," Ralph heard a voice say in a nearby
side room--the library. "And you are perfectly safe in making the deal."
"I trust so, Pickley," came the reply, in Squire Paget's well-known sharp
tones. "It's worth the trouble, you know."
"Of course, I get pay for my trouble," went on Pickley, as he stepped to
the doorway.
"I'll pay what I promised," returned the squire, and then both men stepped
into the hallway.
They started back on seeing Ralph, as though they had imagined no one was
around. The young bridge tender made up his mind they had not noted his
ring.
"Why--ah--what brings you here, Nelson?" demanded the squire, as soon as he
could recover.
"I called to see Percy, sir."
"I believe Percy is out."
Ralph's hope fell at this announcement.
"Can you tell me where I can find him, sir?" he asked.
"He is somewhere about the village, I presume. He said he would be back by
nine o'clock or half-past."
Ralph glanced at the tall clock which stood at the end of the hall, and saw
that it lacked but ten minutes of nine. Percy might be in in a few minutes.
"If you please, I will wait for him," he said, politely.
"Very well."
Squire Paget moved toward the door, and opened it for Dan Pickley, his
visitor.
"Good-night, Pickley," he said.
"Good-night, squire," was the reply, and then Pickley moved down the steps.
The squire watched him go out of the gate, and then closed the front door
once more.
"How long have you been waiting?" he asked, rather abruptly.
"Only a minute or two, sir."
"No longer than that?" and the squire bent his searching eyes full upon
Ralph's honest features.
"No, sir, Mrs. Hanson just let me in."
Squire Paget seemed relieved to hear this. His conversation with Dan
Pickley had been both important and private, and he was afraid Ralph might
have overheard more than he wished to become public.
"So you wish to see Percy?" he went on, after a short pause. "Is there
anything special?"
"Yes, sir."
"What is it?"
"Excuse me, but I would like to speak to Percy first."
The squire drew up his lower lip and looked plainly annoyed.
"I do not allow my son to have any secrets from me, so you might as well
speak out, Nelson," he observed, abruptly.
"I came to see Percy about a twenty-dollar bill which belonged to me, and
which he obtained," returned Ralph, boldly.
"A twenty-dollar bill of yours Percy obtained? Why, Nelson, what do you
mean? Come into the library."
"I mean what I say, Squire Paget," said the young bridge tender, following
the great man of the village into the apartment mentioned. "Percy had a
twenty-dollar bill belonging to me and he passed it off on Mr. Dicks, the
storekeeper."
"But he could not have known it was your bill if he spent it."
"He ought to have known it was mine, sir."
"Give me the particulars of this matter," was Squire Paget's short
response.
In as few words as possible the young bridge tender told of the row on the
bridge, and of what had followed. While he was speaking the squire grew
excited, and paced up and down nervously. He could hardly wait for Ralph to
finish.
"See here, Nelson, this is preposterous, absurd! My son is above such a
thing!" he cried.
"So I hoped, sir. But I have only stated the plain facts."
"It is a tissue of falsehoods, young man! Wait till I hear Percy's side of
the story. The idea! my son has enough spending money without resorting
to--to such unlawful means of obtaining more."
"Well, it is my twenty-dollar bill that he gave to Mr. Dicks," said Ralph,
doggedly.
"Where did you obtain the bill?"
"A gentleman gave it to me for assisting him out of the water, after his
sloop had been wrecked against the stonework of the bridge."
"That is a likely story! As if twenty-dollar bills were flying around so
thickly!"
"I am telling the truth, sir."
"Who is the gentleman?"
"He is from New York, and is up here on a vacation."
"I can hardly believe he gave you so much money."
"He did, and I can prove it."
"Well, be that as it may, I am certain Percy did not take your bill."
"Did you give him a twenty-dollar bill?"
"I give him all the spending money he needs," returned Squire Paget,
evasively. "He has probably saved the amount and had some one change his
small money for one big bill."
"He didn't have it changed into my bill--the one Mr. Dicks holds. That he
got at the bridge--how, I don't know--and I am going to have it back."
"Ha! do you threaten my son!" cried Squire Paget, wrathfully.
"I am going to make him do what is right, sir. I can't afford to lose
twenty dollars and say nothing."
Instantly Squire Paget flared up, and shook his fist in Ralph's face.
"If you dare to make trouble for my son I'll have you discharged as bridge
tender," he fumed. "Understand that, Nelson! I am not going to have
Percy's fair name ruined."
At that moment, before Ralph could reply, a key was heard to turn in the
front door, and a second later the squire's son strode into the house.
CHAPTER VIII.
SQUIRE PAGET MAKES A MOVE.
Percy Paget had not expected to see Ralph, and he was very much
disconcerted when brought thus unexpectedly face to face with the young
bridge tender.
"Why--er--you here?" he stammered, as he flung aside his hat.
"He has been telling a fine string of falsehoods against you, my son!" put
in the squire, ere Ralph could speak.
"And what has he been saying?" demanded the aristocratic bully, coolly.
"Has he been telling you how I had to polish him off for insulting me?"
"No; he tells me that you stole a twenty-dollar bill from him!"
Percy was about to burst out into violent language, that would have
astonished even his indulgent parent, but suddenly he changed his mind and
allowed an injured look to cross his face.
"I hope, father, you don't believe any such outrageous story about me," he
said, plaintively.
"Of course I don't," returned the squire, promptly. "I know my son will not
steal."
"Ralph is mad because I gave him a good thrashing," went on the only son.
"I imagine the boot is on the other foot," put in Ralph. "It is Percy who
got the worst of the encounter."
"He says you refused to pay the toll," went on Squire Paget.
"I only refused after he had called me all sorts of names," retorted the
only son. "I was going over to Eastport, but after I had to teach him a
lesson, I concluded to remain on this side."
