Ned Wilding's Disappearance/Chapter 24
CHAPTER XXIV
A QUEER IDENTIFICATION
Stumbling through the snow drifts the three chums bore the half-unconscious boy they had picked up in the snow bank. They went as quickly as they could, for they knew the need of haste in the case of a person who had been exposed to the cold and storm.
"I wonder who he is?" said Fenn.
"Whoever he is he's pretty nearly dead," replied Frank. "I hope we're not too late."
As they struggled into the lobby of the hotel with their burden, the night clerk gazed curiously at them.
"What the matter?" he asked.
"Boy almost frozen," replied Bart. "Send for a doctor!"
"Who's going to pay him?" the clerk inquired.
"We will!" Bart replied, somewhat indignantly.
"That's all right, needn't get mad about it," the clerk exclaimed. "You'll find there's a lot of grafting in New York, and we have to be careful. Here, I'll help you with him."
"Take him up to my room," Frank suggested, as the clerk came from behind the desk and assisted in supporting the boy, who was now unconscious. "Mine is the largest apartment," Frank went on, "I can bunk in with one of you fellows."
"Telephone for Dr Smithers," the clerk called to a helper as they placed the boy in the elevator. "He's just around the corner."
The lad was put to bed in Frank's room, and the clerk, who seemed a little sorry, for his question about payment, brought in some rubber hot-water bags which were placed about the silent form under the coverlet.
"We must thaw him out," he said. "That's the best treatment I know of."
In a little while the doctor arrived. He said the clerk had done the right thing and he ordered some hot broth prepared.
"Alice ought to be here," remarked Bart. "This would be just in her line."
"Wonder who he is?" asked Frank, as the three boys were in Bart's room, for the doctor, and one of the women servants of the hotel, who had volunteered for a nurse, were busy trying to restore the boy to consciousness.
"Probably some poor homeless wanderer," replied Fenn. "Tough luck, to be without a home on a night like this."
"I only hope Ned isn't in any such plight," spoke Bart.
"Why should he be?" asked Fenn. "He had plenty of money when he left home."
"You can never tell what will happen in New York," replied Fenn with a wise look, which, though he did not appreciate it, was quite a truthful remark.
In about an hour Dr. Smithers came out. He seemed well pleased with what he had accomplished.
"I think we'll pull him through," he said, rubbing his hands. "It was a close call. If you had been five minutes later he would probably have been past human aid."
"Could he tell you anything of himself, doctor?" asked Frank.
"Oh, no. He has not yet fully recovered consciousness. But he will be pretty well in the morning, unless something unforeseen sets in. In the meanwhile he must be kept perfectly quiet. On no account must he be disturbed. One of the chambermaids will watch him during the night. I ventured to engage her as a sort of emergency nurse.
"That's right," spoke Bart. "You can send the bill to me, doctor, and we'll pay for the nurse."
"I'm sure that's very good of you," Dr. Smithers went on, "to take so much interest in a boy you never saw before, as I understand it."
"Can't tell but we might want the same kind of help ourselves, some day," Frank remarked.
"That's so," the physician agreed. "Well, now I believe I'll go. He'll get along all right I think, and I'll look in on him in the morning."
Frank and Bart arranged to occupy the latter's bed that night, as it was a large one. As Frank went into his room, where the rescued boy was, to get some clean clothing for the morning, he saw the lad lying asleep, with the woman watching at the head of the bed. The gas was turned low, but a gleam from it struck on the cheek of the sleeper. As Frank passed close by the bed he looked down on the patient, and, as he did so, he started. For there, on the right cheek of the boy, was a small, but vivid red scar. Frank pointed to it, before he knew what he was doing. The nurse, seeing his gesture, looked up in alarm.
"That mark!" whispered Frank. "Is it a cut? Did he fall and hurt himself?"
"It's an old scar," the woman replied in a whisper. "I noticed it when I was giving him some medicine a while ago. Why?"
"Nothing much; I thought it might be a cut," Frank replied as he hurried quietly from the room. He found Bart and Fenn discussing the finding of the boy. "Fellows," began Frank suddenly as he entered, " do you remember Mrs. Perry?"
"You mean the woman whose place we stayed at over night out of the blizzard?" asked Bart.
"That's it. Do you remember what she told us about her son William who was lost?"
"Sure," answered Bart.
"Didn't she say he had a scar or something on his face?"
"A red scar on his right cheek," replied Bart. "Why?"
"He's in there!" declared Frank.
"Are you dreaming?" asked Bart incredulously.
Then Frank told his chums what he had seen.
"Of course there may be other boys besides William Perry with red scars on their right cheeks," he added, "but I'm sure this is the son of the widow, in the cabin in the woods. We can find out in the morning."
"Why not now?" asked Fenn.
"Doctor said he musn't be disturbed," Frank replied. "We'll have to wait."
In the morning the boy was much better. The doctor paid an early visit and pronounced him out of danger, but advised that he be kept in bed a day or so.
"Now you chaps who rescued him had better go in and tell him all about it," the physician said as he came from the room. "He's all excited with curiosity as to how he got here."
The boys paid the doctor, who said he would not have to call again unless the patient had a relapse, and then they went into the room where the lad was. He was sitting up in bed alone, for the chambermaid had gone.
"Are you the boys who saved me?" was the first question he asked.
"We pulled you out of the snow, but I guess the doctor did the real work of saving you, William Perry!" exclaimed Frank.
"What's that?" almost shouted the boy in bed.
"Aren't you William Perry? Doesn't your mother live near Kirkville, and haven't you two sisters, Mary and Jane?" Frank went on earnestly, for he had determined on a bold plan. "Your mother wants you to come home," he added. "Your room is all ready for you. She told us to tell you to come back, no matter what had happened."
"Have you seen my mother?" asked the boy, his eyes filling with tears. "Did she send you to find me?"
"Then you are William Perry!" exclaimed Bart. "You guessed it, Frank!"
"We saw your mother Thanksgiving day," went on Frank. "We were able to help her. We found her cabin just in the nick of time, for we were caught in a blizzard. So we have only paid back, in a measure, what she did for us."
"Yes, I am William Perry," the boy admitted, and now he made no effort to conceal his tears. "It's the first time I've used my name, though, in many months. My poor mother! Yes, I will go back to her. I'd go now, only—"
"Don't let the money part worry you," said Fenn eagerly. "We'll lend you some."
"I've made a big failure of it all," William went on. "I ought not to go home."
"The more reason why you should," interrupted Frank.
Then the waif told them his story. He had started off to go to sea, in order to earn money for his mother. But he only got as far as Boston. Then, unable to stand the hard work he deserted the ship. Fearing to go home, because he thought he might be arrested for leaving the vessel, he tried to find work. He did manage to get odd jobs here and there, and finally drifted to New York.
He found it was just as hard to earn a dollar there as it had been in Boston. He could barely get enough to buy himself food and he often went hungry. Finally he managed to get a permanent position, but he earned so little that he could only just live on it. He had slept in lodging houses, he said, and wore the poorest clothing he could buy.
"I was ashamed to go home without money," he went on, "or I would have gone back long ago. I wanted to return with good clothes and gold jingling in my pocket, as I had read, in books, of boys doing. So I didn't even write to let them know where I was. Poor mother!" and William sighed.
"I lost my position a month ago. Since then I have only managed to earn enough to live, and it was hard work at times. I hadn't had anything to eat all day yesterday," he went on, "and I was cold and weak. I was on my way to the river, thinking I could find a place on the wharves to sleep, when I stumbled and fell into the snowbank. When I was down it felt so warm there I decided to stay. I didn't care what became of me."
"But you do now, don't you?" asked Frank.
"Do I? " asked the boy eagerly. "Say, will you lend me a stamp so I can write home to mother?"
"We'll do better than that," said Bart. "We'll send her a telegram."
When the message had been forwarded to Mrs. Perry, telling her of the unexpected finding of her wandering boy, the three chums told the waif their reason for being in New York.
"And you haven't been able to find a trace of Ned, eh?" asked William, musingly.
"Not a trace," replied Frank. "But don't let our troubles worry you. You must get strong and hurry home to your mother."
"Say, let me help you!" exclaimed William eagerly. "Maybe I can pay you back for your kindness. I know New York like a book. I've knocked all around it for the last six months. Maybe I can locate Ned for you. I know lots of places where fellows go when they're down on their luck, as I was. Let me help. Mother won't mind when I write and tell her I'm going to stay here a few days longer, when she knows what it's for. I believe I can help you."
"Perhaps you can," said Fenn.
So it was arranged that William was to stay with the three chums at the hotel for a few days. He was not to venture out until the next day, however, as he was still weak.
"Will you be all right if we leave you alone here?" asked Frank a little later. "We want to go out and make some inquiries."
"Sure. Go ahead," replied William. "I'm so happy now I'll not be lonesome."
The three chums went to police headquarters to ask if any news concerning Ned had been received, but there was none for them. The sergeant behind the desk tried to cheer them up by remarking that "no news was good news."
"We must find him pretty soon," Bart declared. "If we don't I'll begin to believe something bad has happened."
As they were walking along the Bowery, in the neighborhood of the cheap variety theaters, they were attracted by a flaming poster which announced the various performers who could be seen or heard. They paused and read it through. There were men who imitated monkeys, trained birds, strong men, women who sang, bands of musicians, and at the bottom of the poster was the announcement.
HEAR JOHN NEWTON, THE GREAT
BIRD WHISTLER.
"John Newton," murmured Fenn. "That name sounds familiar."
"Of course it does," replied Frank. "That's the name of the chap who was expelled from our high school last term."
"So it was. But this can't be the same one."
"I think it is," suggested Fenn. "Don't you remember, he said he was going to New York to be an actor? I heard he had some sort of a job in a theater. Maybe this is he. Let's go in and see."
They bought tickets and entered. The whistling was the last thing on the program, the theater being one where a "continuous performance" was given. A boy came out on the stage and began to whistle, giving imitations of various birds. He did very well, but the three chums were more interested in the identity of the lad than in his performance.
"It is John Newton, from Darewell," whispered Bart. "I never knew he could whistle like that."
"He was always practicing at it," declared Fenn, "but he's improved a lot since I last heard him in Darewell."
"Let's find out if we can't see him," suggested Frank, as they went from the theater and inquired their way back of the scenes.