The Young Musician; Or, Fighting His Way by Jr. Horatio Alger
"Will you get word to them, Mr. Tucker?" asked Philip, turning to him.
"I hain't got time," answered Mr. Tucker, who feared that the Dunbarswould come for Philip and release him in the course of the evening.
Philip was nonplused. Always considerate of the feelings of others, hewas unwilling that his friends should suffer anxiety on his account.
As Mr. Tucker and Squire Pope walked away together, our hero turned toZeke.
"I suppose it's no use to ask you to do me a favor, Zeke?" he said.
"Do you want me to tell Frank Dunbar where you are?"
"Yes, I wish you would."
"Then I'll do it."
"You're a better fellow than I thought you were, Zeke," said Philip,surprised.
"No, I ain't! Do you want to know why I'm willin' to go?"
"Why?"
"I know Frank Dunbar'll feel bad, and I hate him."
"So that is your object, is it, Zeke?"
"You've got it."
"Well, whatever your motive may be, I shall be much obliged to you ifyou go. Here's ten cents for you!"
Zeke grasped at the coin with avidity, for his father was veryparsimonious, and his mother no less so, and he seldom got any readymoney.
"Thank you!" said Zeke, with unusual politeness. "I'll go right off.But, I say, don't you tell dad where I've gone, or he might prevent me,and don't you let on you've given me this dime, or he'd try to get itaway."
"No, I won't say anything about it," answered Philip.
"A curious family this is!" he thought, "There doesn't seem to be muchconfidence in each other."
Zeke sauntered away carelessly, to avert suspicion but when he had gotround a bend of the road he increased his speed, never looking back,lest he should see his father signaling for him.
Philip breathed a sigh of relief.
"I've got a messenger at last," he said. "Now my friends will know whathas become of me when I don't come home to supper."
He was a little curious to learn what they were going to do with him,but he was not long kept in suspense.
CHAPTER X. BAD TIDINGS.
Leaving Philip for a short time in the hands of his captor, we willfollow Zeke on his errand. He didn't have to go as far as Mr. Dunbar'shouse, for he met Frank Dunbar about a quarter of a mile this side ofit.
Now, between Frank Dunbar and Zeke Tucker there was no love lost. Therehad been a difficulty between them, originating at school, which neednot be particularly referred to. Enough that it led to Zeke's cordiallydisliking Frank, while the latter, who was a frank, straightforward boy,could not see anything in Mr. Tucker's promising son to enlist eitherhis respect or his liking.
There was a small river running through Norton, which crossed the mainthoroughfare, and had to be bridged over. Frank Dunbar, fishing-linein hand, was leaning over the parapet, engaged in luring the fish fromtheir river home. He looked up, when he saw Zeke approaching him.Not having any particular desire to hold a conversation with him, hewithdrew his eyes, and again watched his line. Zeke, however, approachedhim with a grin of anticipated enjoyment, and hailed him in the usualstyle:
"Hello, Frank!"
"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Frank Dunbar indifferently.
"Yes it's me. I suppose you thought it was somebody else," chuckledZeke, though Frank could see no cause for merriment.
"Well, I see who it is now," he responded.
"Where is Phil Gray?" inquired Zeke, chuckling again.
"Do you want to see him?" asked Frank, rather surprised.
"Oh, no! I shall see him soon enough."
And again Zeke chuckled.
Frank looked up.
He was expecting Philip to join him, and was, in fact, waiting forhim now. Zeke's mysterious merriment suggested that he might have metPhilip--possibly bore some message from him.
"Do you know anything about Phil?" asked Frank, looking fixedly at hisvisitor.
"I reckon I do. I know all about him," said Zeke, with evidentenjoyment.
"Well. If you have any message from him, let me hear it."
"You can't guess where he is," blurted out Zeke.
"He isn't in any trouble, is he?" asked Frank quickly.
"No; he's safe enough. But you needn't expect to see him tonight."
"Why not?" demanded Frank, not yet guessing what was likely to detainhis friend.
"Because he's at our house," chuckled Zeke. "Dad and Squire Pope havecarried him to the poorhouse, and he's goin' to stay there for good."
This was a surprise. In his astonishment, Frank nearly let go his rod.He was eager now to question Zeke further.
"You don't mean to say Phil has been carried to the poorhouse againsthis will?" he exclaimed.
"I reckon he was anxious to go," said Zeke.
"Where was he when your father and Squire Pope committed this outrage?"said Frank indignantly.
"I thought you'd be mad," said Zeke, with the same unpleasant chuckle.
"Answer my question, or I'll pitch you into the river," said Franksternly.
He did not mean what he said, but Zeke drew back in alarm.
"Quit now! I didn't have nothin' to do with it," said Zeke hastily."Me and him was over in Haywood's pasture when dad come along with thesquire in his wagon. Well, they made Phil get in, and that's all ofit, except I promised I'd come and tell your folks, so you needn't getscared or nothin' when he didn't come back to-night."
"He will come back to-night," said Frank. "He won't stay in thepoorhouse."
"Yes, he will. He can't help himself. Dad's goin' to lock him up in theattic. I guess he won't jump out of the window. Where you go-in'! Youain't got through fishin', be you?"
"Yes, I'm through," answered Frank, as he drew his line out of thewater. "Just tell Phil when you go home that he's got friends outsidewho won't see him suffer."
"Say, ain't you goin' to give me nothin' for comin' to tell you!" askedZeke, who was always intent on the main chance.
Frank flung a nickel in his direction, which Zeke picked up withavidity.
"I guess it pays to run errands when you can get paid twice," hereflected complacently.
CHAPTER XI. PHILIP'S NEW ROOM.
We return to Phil.
"Foller me, boy!" said Mr. Tucker, as he entered the house, andproceeded to ascend the front steps.
Philip had formed his plans, and without a word of remonstrance, heobeyed. The whole interior was dingy and dirty. Mrs. Tucker was not aneat woman, and everything looked neglected and slipshod.
In the common room, to the right, the door of which was partly open,Philip saw some old men and women sitting motionless, in a sort of wearypatience. They were "paupers," and dependent for comfort on the worthycouple, who regarded them merely as human machines, good to them forsixty cents a week each.
Mr. Tucker did not stop at the first landing, but turned and began toascend a narrower and steeper staircase leading to the next story.
This was, if anything, dirtier and more squalid than the first andsecond. There were several small rooms on the third floor, into oneof which Mr. Tucker pushed his way. "Come in," he said. "Now you're athome. This is goin' to be your room."
Philip looked around him in disgust, which he did not even take thetrouble to conceal.
There was a cot-bed in the corner, with an unsavory heap of bed-clothingupon it, and a couple of chairs, both with wooden seats, and one withthe back gone.
That was about all the furniture. There was one window looking out uponthe front.
"So this is to be my room, is it?" asked our hero.
"Yes. How do you like it?"
"I don't see any wash-stand, or any chance to wash."
"Come, that's rich!" said Mr. Tucker, appearing to be very much amused."You didn't think you was stoppin' in the Fifth Avenoo Hotel, did you?"
"This don't look like it."
"We ain't used to fashionable boarders, and we don't know how to takecare of 'em. You'll have to go downstairs and wash in the trough, likethe re
"And wipe my face on the grass, I suppose?" said Philip coolly, thoughhis heart sank within him at the thought of staying even one night in aplace so squalid and filthy.
"Come, that's goin' too far," said Mr. Tucker, who felt that thereputation of the boarding-house was endangered by such insinuations."We mean to live respectable. There's two towels a week allowed, andthat I consider liberal."
"And do all your boarders use the same towel?" asked Phil, unable tosuppress an expression of disgust.
"Sartain. You don't think we allow 'em one apiece, do you!"
"No, I don't," said Philip decidedly.
He had ceased to expect anything so civilized in Mr. Tucker'sestablishment.
"Now you're safe in your room, I reckon I'd better go downstairs," saidTucker.
"I will go with you."
"Not much you won't! We ain't a-goin' to give you a chance of runnin'away just yet!"
"Do you mean to keep me a prisoner?" demanded Philip.
"That's just what we do, at present," answered his genial host.
"It won't be for long, Mr. Tucker."
"What's that you say? I'm master here, I'd have you to know!"
Just then a shrill voice was heard from below:
"Come down, Joe Tucker! Are you goin' to stay upstairs all day?"
"Comin', Abigail!" answered Mr. Tucker hastily, as he backed out of theroom, locking the door behind him. Philip heard the click of the key asit turned in the lock, and he realized, for the first time in his life,that he was a prisoner.
CHAPTER XII. A PAUPER'S MEAL
Half an hour later Philip heard a pounding on the door of his room.
He was unable to open it, but he called out, loud enough for theoutsider to hear:
"Who is it?"
"It's me--Zeke," was the answer that came back.
"Did you tell the Dunbars where I was?" asked Philip eagerly.
"Yes."
"I shouldn't think you had time to go there and back," said Philip,fearing that Zeke had pocketed his money and then played him false. But,as we know, he was mistaken in this.
"I didn't go there," shouted Zeke. "I met Frank on the bridge."
"What did he say?"
"He was mad," answered Zeke, laughing. "I thought he would be."
"Did he send any message to me?" asked Philip.
"No; he stopped fishin' and went home." Here the conversation wasinterrupted. The loud tones in which Zeke had been speaking, in order tobe heard through the door, had attracted attention below.
His father came to the foot of the attic stairs and demandedsuspiciously:
"What you doin' there, Zeke?"
"Tryin' to cheer up Phil Gray," answered Zeke jocosely.
"He don't need any cheerin' up. He's all right. I reckon you're up tosome mischief."
"No, I ain't."
"Come along down."
"All right, dad, if you say so. Lucky he didn't hear what I was sayin'about seein' Frank Dunbar," thought Zeke. "He'd be mad."
Presently there was another caller at Philip's room, or, rather, prison.This time it was Mr. Tucker himself. He turned the key in the lock andopened the door. Philip looked up inquiringly.
"Supper's ready," announced Joe. "You can come down if you want to."
Philip was provided with an appetite, but he did not relish the idea ofgoing downstairs and joining the rest of Mr. Tucker's boarders. It wouldseem like a tacit admission that he was one of their number. Of course,he couldn't do without eating, but he had a large apple in his pocketwhen captured, and he thought that this would prevent his suffering fromhunger for that night, at least, and he did not mean to spend another atthe Norton poorhouse. The problem of to-morrow's supply of food might bedeferred till then.
"I don't care for any supper," answered Philip.
"Perhaps you expect your meals will be brought up to you?" said Mr.Tucker, with a sneer.
"I haven't thought about it particularly," said Philip coolly.
"You may think you're spitin' me by not eatin' anything," observed Mr.Tucker, who was rather alarmed lest Philip might have made up his mindto starve himself.
This would be embarrassing, for it would make an investigationnecessary.
"Oh, no," answered Philip, smiling; "that never came into my mind."
"I don't mind bringin' you up your supper for once," said Tucker. "Ofcourse, I can't do it reg'lar, but this is the first night."
"I suppose I shall be better able to make my escape if I eat," thoughtPhilip. "Probably the most sensible thing is to accept this offer."
"How much are you to get for my board, Mr. Tucker?" he asked.
"Only sixty cents," grumbled Tucker. "It ain't enough, but the townwon't pay any more. You've no idea what appetites them paupers has."
"You made a mistake when you agreed to take me," said Philip gravely."I'm very hearty, you'll be sure to lose money on me."
Mr. Tucker looked uneasy.
"Well, you see I expect to have you earn part of your board by doin'chores," he said, after a pause.
"That will give me a good chance to run away," remarked Philip calmly."You'll have to let me out of this room to work, you know."
"You wouldn't dare to run away!" said Tucker, trying to frighten Philipby a blustering manner.
"That shows you don't know me, Mr. Tucker!" returned our hero. "I giveyou fair warning that I shall run away the first chance I get."
Philip's tone was so calm and free from excitement that Mr. Tucker couldnot help seeing that he was in earnest, and he looked perplexed.
"You don't look at it in the right light," he said, condescending toconciliate his new boarder. "If you don't make no trouble, you'll havea good time, and I'll let you off, now an' then, to play with Zeke. Heneeds a boy to play with."
Philip smiled, for the offer did not attract him very much.
"You are very kind," he said, "but I don't think that even that willreconcile me to staying here with you. But, if you'll agree to let mepay you for the supper, you may bring me up some."
"The town will pay me," said Tucker.
"That's just what I don't want the town to do," said Philip quickly. "Iwill make you an offer. At sixty cents a week the meals for one daywill not cost over ten cents. I'll pay you ten cents for supper andbreakfast."
"You're a cur'us boy," said Tucker. "You want to pay for your vittles ina free boardin'-house."
"It isn't free to me. At any rate, I don't want it to be. What do yousay?"
"Oh, I ain't no objections to take your money," said Tucker, laughing."I didn't know you was so rich."
"I am not rich, but I think I can pay my board as long as I stay here."
This Philip said because he had decided that his stay should be a verybrief one.
"Just as you say!" chuckled Mr. Tucker.
As he went downstairs he reflected:
"I can take the boy's money and charge his board to the town, too.There's nothin' to hen-der, and it'll be so much more in my pocket. Iwish the rest of the paupers would foller his example."
He went downstairs and explained to Mrs. Tucker that he wanted Philip'ssupper.
"Tell him to come down to the table like the rest of the folks!"retorted Mrs. Tucker. "He ain't too lazy, is he?"
"No; but it's safer to keep him in his room for the first twenty-fourhours. He's a desperate boy, but I reckon he'll get tamed after awhile."
"I'll desperate him!" said Mrs. Tucker scornfully. "I don't believe inhumorin' him."
"Nor I, Abigail. He'd like to come down, but I won't let him. We canmanage him between us."
"I should smile if we couldn't," said Mrs. Tucker. "If you want anysupper for him, you can get it yourself. I've got too much to do. No,Widder Jones, you can't have another cup of tea, and you needn't beg forit. One clip's plenty for you, and it's all we can afford."
"Only this once," pleaded the poor old woman. "I've got a headache."
"Then another cup of tea would only mak
While Mrs. Tucker was badgering and domineering over her regularboarders, her husband put two slices of dry bread on a plate, poured outa cup of tea, not strong enough to keep the most delicate child awake,and surreptitiously provided an extra luxury in the shape of a thinslice of cold meat. He felt that, as he was to receive double price, heought to deal generously by our hero.
He carried this luxurious supper to the third story, and set it downbefore Philip.
Philip promptly produced a dime, which Mr. Tucker pocketed withsatisfaction. He waited till his young guest had finished his repast, inorder himself to carry down the dishes.
There was no butter for the bread, and the tea had been sweetenedscantily. However, Philip had the appetite of a healthy boy, and he ateand drank everything that had been provided.
"I'll be up in the morning," said Mr. Tucker. "We go to bed early here.The paupers go to roost at seven, and me and my wife and Zeke at eight.You'd better go to bed early, too."
CHAPTER XIII. A FRIENDLY MISSION.
Philip was glad to hear that all in the almshouse went to bed so early.He had not yet given up the hope of escaping that night, though he hadas yet arranged no definite plan of escape.
Meanwhile, he had an active friend outside. I refer, of course, to FrankDunbar. Frank had no sooner heard of his friend's captivity than heinstantly determined, if it were a possible thing, to help him toescape.