Bob Chester's Grit/Chapter 12
CHAPTER XII
ALONE IN A STRANGE CITY
Arrived at the Northwestern railway station, for a time Bob wandered about, enjoying the novelty of the people rushing hither and thither in their search of either friends or relatives, purchasing tickets, and tending to the baggage, and he wondered how they could accomplish anything, so great was the hustle and bustle.
In the course of his wanderings, he chanced upon the station restaurant, and though in his excitement and the novelty of the scenes about him, he had not thought of eating, the sight of food suddenly roused his hunger, and he went up to one of the counters.
The prices of the food, however, amazed him, and it was several minutes before he had picked out anything that he wanted that did not cost too much.
So long did Bob linger over the consumption of the modest repast he had ordered, that the waitress began to eye him with suspicion. And finally she exclaimed:
"Say! how long do you think you can stay here eating, or are you hoping that you will get a chance to sneak off without paying me? But that game won't work. I'm too wise to get caught by any trick like that. So just come across with the price of your feed."
This caustic comment upon the length of time he was lingering over the meal, and the open charge that he was trying to defraud the waitress, hurt Bob, and his embarrassment was evident in the flush that mounted to his face, as he stammered:
"I'm sorry if I've taken too long over my food. I didn't know I was expected to eat it all at once. But I don't think you have any right to say that I was trying to cheat you out of the pay. If I hadn't had the money in my pocket to pay for what I ordered, I shouldn't have ordered anything. How much is it, please?"
"Thirty cents," snapped the waitress.
Quickly Bob thrust his hand in his pocket, and drew forth a dollar bill and gave it to her.
So deeply had Bob been stirred by the unjust reflection upon his honesty, that his misery was plainly visible on his face, and the waitress, returning, could not but notice it.
"I'm sorry if I made you feel bad, kid," she apologized, "but you see, when people buy things in here, they generally pay for them right off, and we have so many tricks worked on us that we have to be pretty sly not to get nailed by some of them. But you're all right. You're only just green."
Leaving the restaurant, Bob returned to the waiting-room, where he picked out a seat nearest the place where the train announcer always stood when he called out the trains that were ready for the passengers. But as he sat there, he could not get the words of the girl in the restaurant out of his mind, and kept repeating to himself: "Only just green."
The constant brooding over this remark suggested the thought to him: "If people here in the cities like New York and Chicago think that I don't know anything, and am not used to the ways of doing things, what will they think of me out in Fairfax? I said I wouldn't let them take me for a tenderfoot, and I won't. I'll just pretend I know all about things and watch how the other people do."
This new resolve fascinated the boy, and he fell into a day dream, in which bronchos, cowboys, and herds of cattle figured prominently, and so engrossed did he become in it, that it was with a start he heard the train announcer call out the train for Kansas City and the West, which he was to take.
Following the others who were going on the same train, Bob made his way to the cars.
Mindful of his recent resolution and the unpleasant experience with the porter of the parlor car, Bob scrutinized each coach of the train carefully as he walked along until he came to one that was obviously a chair car, and this he entered, selecting a seat well in the middle.
Eager as Bob was to reach his destination, it seemed to him that they would never start, but when at last the wheels began to squeak as the train got in motion, he gave vent to a sigh of delight.
Of the people about him, he took only passing notice, and busied himself with trying to map out a plan of action after he reached Fairfax.
When the conductor came along collecting the tickets, Bob proudly drew forth his pass and presented it. As though unable to reconcile the bit of paper with the poorly-clad boy, the conductor scrutinized the official transportation closely, from time to time glancing at Bob.
Unable satisfactorily to solve the incongruity, the official muttered:
"The pass is all right, but it doesn't seem right for this boy to have it."
This voicing of the thoughts, which were evidently passing through the conductor's mind, scared Bob, and he asked, assuming an air of confidence that he did not feel:
"What's the matter with that pass?"
"Nothing, provided you are Bob Chester. But I don't see why you should be given one."
"Well, if it's all right, and properly made out, I don't know that it's any concern of yours why it was given to me. If you have any doubt about it, why don't you find out from the people who issued it?"
"That's a good idea. It's just what I was going to do. I will just keep it until I know it's all O.K."
And, putting the piece of official transportation in his pocket, the conductor moved along through the car.
With dismay and a feeling of foreboding, Bob watched the conductor go from his car with the precious pass. He dared not protest; indeed, the thought of the proper way to make an objection did not occur to him. In fact, he did not know that he could do so, and his own temerity in calling attention to the fact that it was made out had startled him. But bitterly did he rue his suggestion that the conductor keep the all-important paper until he was satisfied as to its genuineness.
In a few minutes Bob noticed the brakeman come into the car and stare at him. But he did not know that the man had done so in obedience to the order of the conductor, who had told the trainman to take a look at Bob, and then to take care that the boy did not try to leave the train until the matter of the pass had been properly cleared up.
As the train whirled through the darkness of the night, Bob occasionally caught a glimpse of light in the scattered houses or towns through which it passed, but so dark was it that he could see nothing of the country.
Dropping his chair back, the boy tried to go to sleep, but his anxiety over the safety of his pass made it impossible, though he dropped into a doze several times only to awake with a start.
In the meantime, the conductor had sent a telegram to the offices in Chicago where Bob had obtained the transportation, asking if a pass had been issued to Bob Chester, and requesting a description of that individual.
Whenever the conductor walked through the car, Bob inquired anxiously as to when he should receive the important piece of paper back again, but the man in charge of the train only answered gruffly:
"You'll get it back soon enough, if it's all right."
"But if it isn't?" asked Bob, in a boyish eagerness to know the exact conditions he was facing.
"You'll be put off the train, anyhow, and perhaps you will have to go to jail."
As the conductor announced this alternative, he watched Bob closely, and the start the latter gave at the mention of the possibility of arrest, only confirmed the man in his suspicion that there was something irregular about the boy's having the free transportation. But as the reader knows, it was no thought of the pass being spurious that disturbed Bob. The word "jail" had brought to his mind his unpleasant experience in New York.
From thinking about his arrest and the men who had been its cause, Bob went over in his mind all the events that had transpired since that momentous happening, yet he had no regret at the course he had chosen.
Not long after daylight, as the train entered what Bob could see was a good-sized city, and stopped at the station, the boy decided he would get out and walk up and down the platform in order to stretch his legs.
Evidently never thinking the lad would be astir so early, the brakeman had neglected to obey his instructions and keep close watch on Bob, so that his leaving the car was unnoticed.
Seeing a place where he could get a drink of water, Bob walked toward it.
Just as he was in the midst of drinking from the cup, he was stupefied to hear the snorting of an engine, and, upon turning his head, to see the train on which he had been riding disappearing from the station.
With a cry of alarm, Bob dashed after it, shouting:
"Wait! Stop the train! The conductor's got my pass!"
But the few officials about, paid no heed to the lad's frantic cries, and the train continued on its way, while Bob was left in a strange place, bereft of his pass, and without knowing what to do in order to regain possession of the precious piece of paper which was to carry him to Fairfax.