Young Auctioneers: or, The Polishing of a Rolling Stone

CHAPTER XXVIII.
BACK TO THE VILLAGE

“Never mind, let them go,” said Andy, as he saw the mountaineer make a movement as if to follow the retreading pair. “I do not think that they have any of the stolen things in their possession.”

“But they ought to be locked up,” insisted Ramson. “Such thieves ought never to be allowed their liberty.”

“I agree with you, but as matters stand, we cannot bother to follow them just now.”

“Maybe this fellow will tell us who they were. I didn’t get a square look at them,” went on the mountaineer, who felt sore to think the pair had gotten away thus easily.

“Yes, I imagine we can learn from Barberry who they are,” put in Matt, as he caught the pretended doctor by the arm. “Don’t you try to run,” he added.

Paul Barberry appeared greatly disconcerted. He had not expected this sudden turn of affairs, and he knew not what to say or do.

“March him up to the wagon and light the other lantern,” said Andy. “I see the fire is going out.”

“I’ll soon fix that,” returned Ramson, and he threw on some dry twigs, causing the fire to blaze up merrily. “They were making themselves quite at home.”

“What are you going to do with me?” asked Barberry sullenly, as he found himself surrounded, with no hope of escape.

“Before we answer that question we wish to ask a few on our account,” returned Andy. “Now tell us who your companions were.”

“A couple of tramps I picked up in Phillipsburg.”

“Tramps?”

“That is what I call them. They were bound for Easton to sell prize packages of toilet soap.”

“Fakirs, like yourself,” put in Matt. “How did you come to pick them up? Were you afraid to steal the outfit alone?”

“I didn’t say I stole the outfit.”

“No, but you did, nevertheless. Now, how did you happen to fall in with those fakirs?”

“Will you let me go if I tell you?”

“Certainly not,” cried the boy. “We intend to put you where you will not be able to steal any more for some time to come.”

“Arrest me?” exclaimed Paul Barberry, in great alarm. Evidently he had not thought such a thing at all likely.

“Yes,” put in Andy. “And unless you do as we wish you to it may go mighty hard with you.”

“But I’ll stick to it that I bought the turn-out,” returned the corn salve doctor, trying to put on a bold front. “You’ll have to prove that you didn’t make the sale. I won’t be bulldozed.”

“Get a rope and bind him, Matt,” said Andy, paying no attention to the last remark. “We’ll take him to the nearest police station. I suppose there will have to be some papers made out before he can be taken back to New Jersey.”

The young auctioneer sprang into the wagon and soon brought forth a long and stout rope. Paul Barberry watched these preparations with an anxious face, and when Ramson stepped forward to aid in making him a close prisoner he began to wilt.

“See here,” he said, addressing Andy and Matt, “I don’t want to be locked up. It would injure my reputation to a great extent. I am willing to admit that I have done wrong, but I – I – did it by mistake. I haven’t felt well for several days, and my head has been affected, that’s the whole truth of the matter. When I get those spells I don’t know what I am doing.”

“He’s a good one at crawling,” remarked Ramson in disgust. “He’ll get over the spells when he’s locked up.”

In spite of his protestations and pleadings, Barberry was tightly bound and fastened to the rear of the wagon. Then Billy, who had had quite a rest, was harnessed up once more, and with Matt on the seat and Ramson going on ahead to pick the way, they started off for the village, Andy keeping in the rear to see to it that their prisoner should not escape.

The way was dark and uncertain, but the tall mountaineer proved a good and careful guide, and at the end of an hour and a half the worst part of the journey was over. They entered the village just as the town clock was striking one.

“If you want the man arrested you had better take him directly to Justice Harwig’s house,” said Ramson. “He does all the law business in these parts.”

So to that individual’s cottage they turned, and Matt sprang from the wagon and used the old-fashioned knocker vigorously. A long silence followed, and then a window upstairs was raised and a head adorned with a nightcap was thrust out.

“What’s wanted?”

“We’ve got a criminal for ye, judge,” called out Ramson. “The fellow as run away with that auction turn-out.”

“A criminal, eh? All right, I’ll be down in a minnit!”

The head disappeared and the window was closed. Five minutes passed and then a light appeared in a wing of the house, and the justice opened the door to what he termed his office.

“Now, what’s it all about?” he asked in a sleepy voice.

All hands entered the place, Andy and the mountaineer leading Paul Barberry, who looked anything but comfortable. The prisoner was marched up before the justice’s desk, and the others ranged themselves alongside of him, while Justice Harwig, a very pleasant man, made himself comfortable to listen to what all hands might have to say.

The hearing was a short one, and at its conclusion Paul Barberry was marched off to the village lock-up, the justice stating that he would notify the Phillipsburg authorities, so that they could get the necessary papers and take him away.

Barberry did all he could to beg off, offering at the last moment to pay a fine equal to the amount of money in his pocket – eighteen dollars. But neither the justice nor the others would listen to this. Had he not made the fight, Matt and Andy might have had some pity on him, but they were but human and could not so easily forget the blows they had suffered at the hands of the thieves.

It was not deemed worth while to send out any one to look for the two men who had escaped, and after Barberry was safe in jail the young auctioneers drove over to the tavern and put up there for the night. Ramson accompanied them, and before parting with the mountaineer they paid him the reward that had been promised, for which he was very thankful.

On the following morning Matt and Andy lost no time in starting back for Easton, telling Justice Harwig that they would report to the authorities in Phillipsburg whenever wanted. They found that the turn-out had suffered no damage by being stolen. The new goods which had been in the cases had been stored away in some confusion, but Andy soon straightened this out.

“I tell you we can consider ourselves very lucky to get out of this so nicely,” he said, after he had finished his work and knew all was right. “As it stands, we will be out hardly a cent.”

“Yes, we were lucky,” returned Matt. “But we wouldn’t have been had we taken that freight agent’s advice and remained on the other side of the Delaware.”

“Well, no doubt he’ll be glad to learn that we have recovered the goods. It saves him something like seventy-eight dollars.”

“We will lose the best part of to-day’s trade, for we won’t be able to get back much before two or three o’clock.”

“Never mind, the city is full of people, and we ought to do best in the evening,” replied Andy.

It was a cool, clear day, and although both were rather tired from the adventures of the night before, they enjoyed the drive back to Easton. At first Andy drove, while Matt took it easy on the goods in the back of the wagon, and when half the distance was covered the partners changed places, so that by the time the store they had previously hired was reached, both were sufficiently rested to go ahead with the duties on hand.

They lost no time in transferring the stock to the store shelves, after which Andy drove off with the wagon and found a stable where the turn-out might be put up during their stay. Matt arranged the stock on the shelves, and made a great window display. The red flag was hung out, and inside of an hour afterward business was in full swing.

CHAPTER XXIX.
UNDESIRABLE CUSTOMERS

Among their customers they numbered a great many fire laddies, and these they made it a point to treat extra well, selling them goods at almost cost. As a consequence the firemen told their friends, and by eight o’clock that evening the store was packed.

“This is going to be the banner day after all,” whispered Andy, just after making several good sales. “I believe we can keep things moving until midnight.”

They found a great demand for pocket-knives and cheap jewelry, and by playing on the instruments they sold over three dozen mouth harmonicas and three accordions. Then Andy and Matt gave a duet on the violin and banjo, and as a consequence, sold both of the instruments they had handled.

The music had attracted even a greater crowd, and among the people were four tall and rather ugly-looking colored men. They shoved their way forward rudely, causing some timid customers to leave in a hurry, and then began to laugh and joke among themselves in a loud and coarse manner.

“I am afraid we are going to have trouble with those chaps,” whispered Matt to his partner. “They have been drinking, and they are out for a lark.”

“That’s my idea, too,” returned Andy. “We must watch them closely.”

For a few minutes the young auctioneers paid no attention to the four negroes, excepting to see that they did not take up something without laying it down again. The fellows moved around through the crowd, and at length two of them leaned up heavily against one of the show-cases which belonged to the store fixtures.

The combined weight of the two men was too much for the top glass of the case, and with a sharp crack it broke into half a dozen pieces.

“Hullo! dat glass dun gone and got broke!” cried one of the negroes. “I wonder how dat happened?”

“You broke that glass!” exclaimed Matt sharply. “You and your companion.”

“Me?” returned the offender in pretended surprise.

“Yes, you – and your friend.”

“Dat ain’t so at all, boss! We didn’t touch dat yere glass. Did we, Jeff?”

“’Deed we didn’t, Tooker.”

“We didn’t come in here to do no kind ob damage, boss.”

“Never mind what you came in for,” returned Matt. “You broke the glass and you will have to pay for it.”

At the young auctioneer’s statement the faces of all four of the colored men took on a savage look. They had drifted in to do pretty much as they pleased, and had not expected to meet with such strong and sudden opposition.

“I won’t pay for nuffin!” growled the ringleader of the quartet. “I dun reckon somebody else in the crowd broke the glass.”

“Cos da did,” replied another of the colored men. “Maybe yo’ think yo’ kin lay it on us just because we is colored, hey?”

“Not at all; a colored man can be as much of a gentleman as any one – if he wishes to be,” put in Andy.

“Do youse mean to insinuate dat we ain’t gen’men?” questioned one of the crowd roughly.

“You are not gentlemen when you break glass and refuse to pay for it,” returned Andy. “That glass is worth at least a dollar, and unless it is paid for, somebody will be handed over to the police.”

“Huh! do yo’ fink yo’ kin scare us, boss?”

“Yo’ say another word an’ we’ll do up de hull place!”

“We is as good as any white trash, remember dat!”

In the meantime one of the colored men slid his hand into the show-case which had been damaged, and essayed to grab a small box of watch-chains which rested close by. Matt saw the movement, slick as it was, just in time, and springing forward he caught the colored man by the arm.

“Drop that box!” he cried sternly.

“Oh, I wasn’t gwine to take de box,” returned the would-be offender. “I was jess gwine to look at yo’ stock. How much is dem chains worth?”

“I am not selling chains to you to-night,” returned Matt.

He had hardly spoken when Andy leaned over his shoulder and whispered into his ear:

“Talk to them for a few minutes, and I’ll slip out and notify the police. Treat them well until I get back.”

And the next instant Matt’s partner had disappeared into the crowd, without any of the colored men noticing his departure.

“Yo’ don’t want to sell me any chain?” repeated the colored man.

“Not to-night.”

“Why not?”

“This isn’t chain night. I’m selling harmonicas and banjos.”

“Well, let’s see some banjos den,” put in another of the negroes, and he winked at his companions, thinking that Matt had become too scared to refer to the broken show-case again.

“All right, but I don’t want any more show-cases broken,” returned the young auctioneer.

He took a banjo from one of the cases and began to tune it up slowly.

“Kin yo’ play us a jig?” asked one of the colored men, while the white people in the place looked on in wonder at the turn affairs had taken.

“Oh, yes, I can play a jig,” returned Matt coolly.

“Den give us one now.”

“You will have to wait until I am done tuning up, gentlemen.”

“All right, we’ll wait.”

Matt tuned up more slowly than ever, and even allowed one of the strings to break that he might gain an extra minute in repairing the damage. At last, after fully five minutes had passed, the banjo was in order for use, and the young auctioneer struck off a few chords.

“Now give us dat jig if yo’ kin play it,” said the colored man impatiently. He was the same who had tried to steal the box of chains.

“I won’t play a jig until you and your companion pay for the glass you broke,” returned Matt shortly, and he laid down the instrument abruptly, and folded his arms.

“Wot?” roared the colored men in concert.

“You heard what I said.”

“See here; do yo’ want us to smash de hull place?” demanded the ringleader of the disturbers.

“I don’t think you’ll smash anything more,” replied Matt.

“I won’t, hey? We’ll see!”

The colored man made a movement as if to strike the young auctioneer in the face. But before the blow could land he was hauled back by a strong arm. He and his companions looked around and found themselves confronted by two policemen whom Andy had fortunately met upon the corner below.

The two colored men who had kept somewhat in the background at once sneaked through the crowd and escaped through the open doorway. The other two, the ones who had done the damage, were held by the policemen, much to their discomfiture.

A lively talk followed, and then upon payment for the damage done, the colored men were allowed to go, first being warned by Matt and Andy not to show themselves in the store again. Had they not paid up they would have been arrested.

After this scene was ended one of the policemen remained in the vicinity of the place for all the while the store remained open. But nothing more occurred to disturb the auction sales.

Business in Easton was so good that they remained there until Tuesday of the following week. During that time they took in nearly two hundred dollars, leaving them a profit, after all expenses were met, of forty-five dollars.

On Saturday morning Matt and Andy were called to Belvidere, the county seat, to testify against Barberry for the robbery at Phillipsburg. Strange to say, Barberry pleaded guilty, so the two boys had no trouble in the way of being detained as witnesses against him. The corn salve doctor was held for sentence.

After leaving Easton Matt and Andy struck out for Bethlehem and Allentown. The weather was now growing gradually colder, but they calculated that they would have at least a month of weather which would be fit to travel in, even in this mountainous country.

“At Allentown we can stop long enough for me to take a trip to Philadelphia and buy goods,” remarked Andy as they were driving out of Easton.

“Just as you say,” returned Matt. “I am glad we have to stock up so often, and I am looking forward to the time when it will be necessary for us to buy a larger wagon and get another horse to put beside Billy.”

“It will hardly pay us to buy another horse this fall. You must remember that we are to locate in some place during the winter. I have no desire to move around much when the thermometer is below the freezing point.”

They were soon on the outskirts of Easton, and then they struck a rather rough road leading over numerous hills and around jagged rocks.

“By jinks! I believe we have missed the way,” remarked Matt, as at last he brought Billy to a standstill. “That stable-keeper said the road was a good one, and I fail to find this so.”

“We’ll stop at the next house and find out,” returned Andy. “Do you see any place in sight?”

“There is a cottage down in the hollow yonder. Stay here with Billy, and I’ll ask the way there.”

Matt sprang from the wagon and was soon hurrying across a barren bit of pasture land that led down to a brook which was all but dried up. The cottage stood upon the bank of the brook, and walking up to it, the young auctioneer rapped upon the door.

There was an exclamation of surprise from within, and then he was asked to enter. He did so, and was greatly vexed to find himself in the presence of three of the colored men who had created the disturbance in the store but a few nights before!

CHAPTER XXX.
A DASH FROM DANGER

Had Matt known that he would meet three of the colored men in the cottage in the hollow, it is more than likely that he would not have gone near the place.

When he and Andy had had the trouble at the store, the two men who had been compelled to pay for the broken glass had gone off in anything but a happy frame of mind, and the young auctioneer had then remarked to his partner that they might have trouble with the men should they chance to meet them away from police protection.

Matt saw at once that the negroes recognized him, and that his reception would be far from agreeable. Had he been less courageous he would have turned and fled, but as it was, he stood his ground.

All three of the colored men had been seated around a kitchen table playing cards, but at his entrance the two who had been the primary cause of the former trouble sprang to their feet and came toward him.

“Huh! what brings yo’ heah?” demanded the ringleader of the mischief-makers wrathfully.

For the instant Matt hardly knew how to reply. He recognized his mistake in coming to the cottage, and he was anxious now to make as early a departure as possible.

“Do you live here?” he asked boldly.

“Yes we do,” returned the colored man.

“Then I have made a mistake in coming here. I thought some one else might live here.”

And he took a step backward to the door.

“Hol’ on!” exclaimed the colored man, coming still closer. “What brung yo’ heah?”

“I wanted to find out if we were on the right road, that was all. But I can find out elsewhere.”

“Whar’s yo’ wagon?”

“Over on the road,” and Matt waved his hand in the direction.

“Gwine to leave Easton?” questioned the second colored man.

“Yes.”

No sooner had Matt made the reply than the three colored men glanced at each other, and the ringleader whispered to his companions.

“See yeah, yo’ ain’t gwine befo’ we is squar’ wid yo’!” he cried, as he caught Matt by the arm.

“Let go of me!” exclaimed the young auctioneer. “I won’t stand being molested!”

“We’ll see about dat!” cried the second colored man, and he also caught hold of Matt.

“Close dat doah, Shelby!” went on the ringleader, to the man still at the table. “Dis is just de chance we wanted at dis yeah boy!”

The man addressed at once arose, and rushing to the somewhat rickety door, not only closed it, but also locked it.

Matt viewed this movement with increased alarm, and squirmed to release himself, but without avail.

“Yo’ can’t git away from us, nohow!” cried the ringleader, as he squeezed the young auctioneer’s arm until Matt thought he would crack a bone. “We is gwine for to teach you a lesson, boy, dat yo’ won’t forgit in a long while!”

“Help! help!” yelled Matt, without more ado, realizing that the situation was becoming suddenly desperate.

He had barely time to repeat his cry when the ringleader of the negroes clapped his big hand over his mouth. Then he was forced over backward upon the floor.

“Go frough his pockets, Jeff!”

“Dat’s wot I intends to do, Tooker!”

“He’s got a putty good watch.”

“Maybe he’s got a lot o’ money, too.”

The rascals began to go through Matt’s pockets, and he called Jeff made a movement toward relieving the boy of his watch and chain.

The timepiece had once belonged to Mr. Lincoln, and to the young auctioneer it was a valuable heirloom. The thought that he was to be deprived of it angered him more than did anything else, and he began to kick out hotly right and left.

The negroes were not prepared for this, and before they could guard against it, one received a severe blow in the chin, and the other had the toe of Matt’s shoe nearly knock out his eye. They both gave sharp cries of pain and fell back, and taking advantage of this Matt leaped to his feet.

“Open that!” he commanded, to the third negro, who stood with his back against the door. “Open that before I make it warm for you also!”

But the colored man would not budge, and Matt was compelled to attack him in his fight for freedom.

The young auctioneer was thoroughly aroused, and now showed what muscle he had gained during his free-and-easy life on the road. He attacked the man without hesitation, and forcing him aside, compelled him to keep away from the door by blows and kicks delivered with surprising rapidity.

The man had, at the last moment, taken the key from the lock and thrown it in the far corner of the room. Not waiting to recover this, Matt began to hammer at the door, and gathering himself together, threw his whole weight against it.

As has been said, the door was a rickety one, and it went down with a crash, tumbling the young auctioneer upon his face just outside the cottage.

“Hullo! what on earth does this mean?” cried a voice close by, and Andy rushed up, a look of blank astonishment plainly depicted upon his face.

“Those negroes!” gasped Matt, struggling to rise from amid the wreckage of the door. “Come on, don’t wait, for they are three to two, and they are just drunk enough to be as ugly as sin!”

He caught Andy by the arm, and before the latter could ask for a further explanation, hurried him up the hill toward the wagon.

The negroes came out of the cottage and made after them, but only for a short distance. Then they came to a sudden halt, and after a brief consultation, hurried back to the cottage.

“What do you suppose they went back for – pistols and razors?” questioned Andy, as they reached the turn-out, and he unhitched Billy from the tree to which he had been tied.

“No, they are afraid we are going after the police,” returned Matt, springing up to the seat. “Every one of that crowd ought to be in jail this minute!” he went on bitterly.

“What did they do to you?”

“Nearly robbed me!” And in a few brief words he related what had happened to him.

“Well, do you want to go back to Easton and make a complaint?” asked Andy, when he had finished.

“No, I am sick of having to do with the police, Andy. All I want is to be let alone.”

“That’s my sentiment, Matt. We are out for business – and money – not trouble.”

Andy sprang up beside Matt, and it was soon decided by the partners to continue on the road until another house should appear. They looked back, but saw nothing more of the negroes, and then started off.

They passed through a bit of woods and down a long hill. Here they found a neat farmhouse, where a pleasant enough woman was sitting upon the doorstep, knitting socks.

“This is one road, but it is not the best road,” replied the woman, in reply to Andy’s question regarding the way to Bethlehem. “But now you are this far, you had better keep on, for it will be harder to turn back.”

“How far is it to the town?”

“Not over a mile and a half.”

“And is the road fairly good from here?”

“Oh, yes; you can get along very well.”

“Then we will continue,” returned Andy. “By the way,” he went on, “do you know anything of the negroes that live in the cottage back a ways?”

The woman’s face lost its smile and she sighed.

“Yes, I know them only too well,” she replied. “They have stolen so many of our chickens and so much garden truck that my husband is going to make a complaint against them. I wish they would leave the neighborhood.”

“I trust your husband succeeds in having them all locked up,” put in Matt, “for they richly deserve it.” And after a few words more with the farmer’s wife they passed on.

It was getting on toward noon when they finally arrived at Bethlehem, that pretty little town on the Lehigh River. They drove past several of the silk mills, and finally found a livery stable, at which Billy and the wagon were put up.

“It looks as if we might do some business here,” said Andy, as they started for a restaurant for dinner. “Let us open up this afternoon if possible.”

“Shall we hire a store?”

“Let us try to sell from the wagon first.”

Immediately after dinner they procured a license and found a suitable corner. They did all in their power to attract a crowd, and finally, toward evening, when the working people were on their way home, succeeded in bringing quite an assemblage around them.

But, strange to say, they could not make a single sale, try their best. Both used up all their eloquence; Matt played on the banjo and mouth harmonica, and Andy told funny stories. It was no use; the crowd merely smiled or frowned, and then one after another drifted away.

“This is the worst luck yet,” whispered Andy to Matt. “I never dreamed that we would strike anything like this.”

A stout German who stood in the crowd saw the look of wonder and disappointment on Andy’s face, and he laughed heartily.

“You ton’t vos caught der same pirds twice alretty!” he chuckled to several bystanders.

“What’s that?” questioned Matt, who overheard the remark.

“You ton’t vos caught der same pirds twice mit der same salt,” returned the German, and he laughed heartily at what he considered a good joke, while those around smiled and nodded approvingly.

“I must say I don’t see the joke,” said Matt cheerfully. “Won’t you let me in the secret?”

“Dose udder fellers vos schwindle us, put you can’t do it twice times!” was the reply.

“Other fellows swindled you?” repeated Matt.

“Yes, dose fellers mit dot wagon vot vas here all last week. I don’t dink but vot you vos der same crowd of fellers!”