Young Auctioneers: or, The Polishing of a Rolling Stone

CHAPTER XXXIV.
MATT SPEAKS HIS MIND

Matt did not wait to encounter the rival auctioneers, but walked away and entered the door of his own store. Andy was busy, dusting up, and to his partner he told what he had heard.

“Phew!” whistled Andy. “That will make matters rather interesting. Is that their wagon out there?”

“I suppose it is. Those are the same two men, I am certain.”

“Yes, they are. Well, if they are the swindlers folks in Bethlehem said they were we ought not to fear them. People are not fools, and they soon learn if a man is honest or not.”

“They may take away a good bit of trade, nevertheless, Andy. And we were just congratulating ourselves on what a fine week we were going to have.”

“We must do our best, Matt. This puts me on my mettle.”

They talked the matter over a bit, and then set to work to “put their best foot forward,” as Andy termed it. The window was cleaned as it had never been cleaned before, and also the show-cases and shelves, and then they proceeded to make the most elaborate display possible.

“There; that ought to attract people, if anything will,” remarked Andy, when the work was finished.

“You are right; the window couldn’t look better. But perhaps they will put out big price signs.”

“Never mind, they can’t afford to sell any cheaper than we can. I bought all the goods at bottom figures. Let us start up before they get ready.”

They began to play on several instruments, and as soon as half a dozen people were collected Andy began to talk and tell jokes. Before the rival auctioneers had their stock inside of their store Matt and Andy were doing a pretty fair business.

Seeing this, Gissem & Fillow hurried up their preparations, and by noon both places were “going it for all they were worth,” as Matt expressed it.

Gissem seemed to be the principal member of the firm, Fillow and the boy being merely helpers. He was a tall, thin-faced and clean-shaven man, with hard, steely-blue eyes.

“This way for bargains!” he cried out, coming out upon the sidewalk. “This way, gents and ladies! The only place in Wilkesbarre selling reliable goods at rock-bottom figures! Don’t be deceived by rival concerns trying to obtain a bit of our well-earned prosperity! Come right in and be convinced!” And he kept on in this strain for fully five minutes.

“Well, that is what I call downright mean,” cried Matt to Andy. “Of course all these cracks at rival concerns are meant for us. He wants to draw the crowd away from us.”

“More than that, he is trying to scare them, so that if they won’t patronize him they won’t purchase anywhere,” returned the senior partner. “It is certainly not a fair way to do.”

“Can’t we stop, him, Andy?”

“I don’t see how. He has mentioned no names.”

Andy began to talk, but as he was inside of the store while Gissem was outside, very few of the people on the street were attracted. They made several sales to those inside, but after the purchasers were gone the store was empty. In the meantime, the next place was filled to overflowing.

“Let us give them a tune,” suggested Matt. “I see our rivals have no musical instruments.”

He brought out a banjo, and Andy took up the largest accordion in the place. Sitting down in a spot from which the music could float out of the door, they played several of their best selections.

The music pleased many people. They stopped listening to Gissem, and after some hesitation several came in. More followed, and seeing this, Matt and Andy kept on until the store was once more filled.

Then Matt began to talk. He made no wild statements, but in an earnest manner told what they had to sell, and asked those around him to examine the goods carefully.

“That fellow next door said to beware of rival concerns,” remarked a man in the crowd slyly, and several smiled at the words.

“Well, I take it that people are bright enough to know what they are doing,” returned Matt. “We are too busy to talk about our neighbors. We are here to show what we have and sell goods – if we can. We do not misrepresent, and if any one is dissatisfied with his purchase he can return it and get his money back. Isn’t that fair enough?”

“I reckon it is.”

“We carry a large stock, as you can see, and we sell everything for what it is.”

“Let me see those spoons, will you?” questioned a man standing beside the one talking to Matt.

“Certainly, sir,” and the young auctioneer handed over several samples.

“Are these triple plated?”

“No, sir; they are single plated, on white metal.”

“Then they are just as good as triple plated?”

“Almost as good, for ordinary wear. Here are some that are triple plated.”

“I know they are.”

“Oh, you do.”

“Yes, I know all about spoons, for I used to be in the plating business. I only asked to see what you would say. That man next door tried to sell my friend some single plated ones for triple plated. I brought him in here to see what you had to say about your stock.”

“Well, I have not misrepresented, have I?”

“No; you have told the exact truth. John, if you want any spoons, you might as well buy them here, for I see they are put at a very reasonable figure.”

Upon this, the man who had first spoken began to pick out some of the goods. What his friend had said had been heard by the crowd, who now began to feel more like trusting in what the young auctioneers might have to say.

Matt sold the spoons, and in the meantime Andy put up a number of other articles at auction, and sold them at fairly good prices.

They managed to keep busy until two o’clock in the afternoon, when trade fell off once more. Seeing this, Andy prepared to go out to dinner. He had just put on his hat when Gissem, the rival auctioneer, rushed in.

“See here, I want to talk to you two fellows!” he blustered.

“Well, what is it?” questioned Matt, as coolly as he could.

“You’ve been telling people I tried to stick a man on a lot of tin-plated spoons, saying they were solid silver.”

“Who said so?”

“Never mind who said so. Let me tell you I ain’t going to stand such work.”

“Excuse me, sir, but we circulated no such story,” interrupted Andy. “We know enough to mind our own business.”

“But they told me one or the other of you had said so. We won’t stand that – we’ll have you arrested for – for defamation of character!” stormed the rival auctioneer, working himself up into a fine pitch of assumed indignation.

“We have said nothing concerning you,” said Matt. “We have not even advised people to beware of our rivals, nor have we mentioned your stop in Bethlehem, and how the folks of that town regarded your doings there,” he went on pointedly.

“What – what do you mean?” stammered Gissem, taken by surprise.

“I mean just what I infer. We know how people there were swindled, and we know how anxious some of them are to lay hands on a certain firm of auctioneers.”

“Have a care, boy, or I’ll – I’ll – ”

“What will you do?”

“Never mind; you’ll see fast enough.”

“You cannot bully me. Now that you have taken the trouble to come in here, let me tell you something. You just cast several reflections upon our characters. That has got to be stopped.”

“Humph! Why, you are but a boy and dare talk to me.”

“Never mind, he knows what he is saying,” put in Andy. “We are not to be mistreated by rivals or by any one else.”

“Don’t talk to me!” snapped Gissem, and unable to keep up the talk with credit to himself, he fled from the store.

“I don’t think he will dare to bother us again,” said Andy. “He is too much afraid to have his past record raked up.”

Andy went off to dinner, leaving Matt in sole charge. The snow had cleared away, but it was still cold, and to keep himself warm, Matt went to the rear of the establishment and got his overcoat. He was just putting on the garment when a noise near the show-window attracted his attention. He ran forward, and saw that a thin stream of water was coming down through the boards of the ceiling. The water was splashing on some of the stock, and unless it was speedily checked it would do a good bit of damage.

Matt knew that the upper part of the building was not occupied. In the rear of the store was a door leading to the back hallway, and through this he ran and started to go upstairs.

As he did so, somebody started to come down. It was the boy who worked for the rival auctioneers.

CHAPTER XXXV.
TOM INWOLD

As soon as the boy saw Matt he stopped short, and then endeavored to retreat. But Matt was coming up the steps in a tremendous hurry, and in ten seconds he was close enough to the boy to catch him by the arm.

“Let go of me!” cried the boy, badly frightened.

“What have you done?” questioned Matt sternly, and without waiting for a reply, forced the boy to accompany him into the rooms.

A glance around revealed the cause of the flood below. In one of the rooms was a sink with city water. The water had been turned on full, and the sink-holes stopped up with putty. The sink had overflowed, and the water was running through several cracks in the floor.

As rapidly as he could Matt turned off the faucet. Then leaving the water still in the sink to the brim, he dashed downstairs.

“You come with me and help me save my stock!” he cried to the boy. “If you don’t I’ll hand you over to the first policeman I can find.”

“Oh, please don’t have me arrested!” howled the boy, almost scared out of his wits by the threat. “I – I – didn’t mean any harm!”

“You didn’t mean any harm? We’ll see. Come down now.”

The boy hesitated, and then followed Matt into the store. Here a portion of the stock had to be removed, and then the young auctioneer set the boy to work mopping up the water on the counter and the floor.

“Say, please don’t have me arrested, will you?” asked the boy, almost in tears over what he considered a very serious predicament.

“You ought to be taught a lesson,” returned Matt severely. “What put you up to the idea of letting the water overflow?”

“What Mr. Gissem said. He was awful mad after he was in here, and he told Mr. Fillow he wished that you would burn out or that the water pipes would burst and drown you out. Then he asked me if I couldn’t worry you a bit, and I said I’d try, and that’s the truth of it.”

“Well, that man ought to be cowhided!” was Matt’s vigorous exclamation. “Excuse me, but is he any relation to you?”

“Oh, no.”

“Is Mr. Fillow?”

“No, neither of them.”

“Then how do you come to be traveling with them?”

The boy’s face took on a sober look, and he swallowed something like a lump in his throat.

“I – I got tired of going to school and I ran away from home.”

“What do you mean – ” Matt stopped short as a certain thought flashed over his mind. “Say, is your name Tom Inwold, and do you come from Plainfield?”

At this unexpected question the boy looked at Matt in amazement, his mouth wide open, and his eyes as big as they could well be.

“Who told you who I was?” he gasped.

“No one; I guessed it.”

“But I don’t know you.”

“That’s true. We stopped in Plainfield a number of weeks ago, and there I met your mother.”

“And what did she say?” faltered Tom Inwold.

“She told me that you had run away with an auctioneer.”

“And – and was that all?” went on the boy, his voice trembling with emotion.

“No; she was very anxious to have you come home again. She missed you very much, and she could not understand how you could have the heart to leave her.”

At these words, which Matt delivered very seriously, the tears sprang into Tom Inwold’s eyes. Evidently he was not hard-hearted, and had been led astray purely by bad associates.

“I – I wish I was back home again,” he said in a low voice.

“You do not like being an auctioneer’s helper, then?”

“No, I don’t. I might like you, but Gissem and Fillow treat me awful.”

“In what way?”

“Well, in the first place they don’t half feed me, and then they don’t pay me the wages they promised.”

“What did they promise you?”

“Five dollars a week to start on, and ten dollars when I was worth it. I’ve been with them a long time, but I was never able to get a cent out of them.”

“Supposing you had the money, would you go home?” asked Matt kindly, for he saw that the boy’s better feelings had been touched.

“I don’t know if I would dare. Ma might whip me and have me sent to the reform school, or something like that.”

“I don’t think she would – not if you promise to turn over a new leaf. I should think you would rather go home than remain where you have to work for nothing.”

“I guess I would go home if I had a railroad ticket and some clothes fit to wear. You can see how this suit looks,” and Tom Inwold showed up his ragged elbows and patched trousers.

“I’ll see if I can do something for you,” said Matt.

When Andy came back he told his partner Tom Inwold’s story. To this the boy himself added the tale of his hardships while with the rival auctioneers, and added that he was very sorry he had endeavored to do any injury to the stock in the store.

“I believe he means it,” said Matt, as he and Andy walked a little to one side. “And I would like to do something for the lad, for his mother’s sake as much as his own.”

“I think I can fix it,” replied Andy. “I’ll have a talk with this Gissem.”

“He ought to pay the boy something for his work.”

“I reckon he will – when I tell him that he is liable to arrest for enticing the boy from home.”

Andy told Tom Inwold to accompany him to the store next door. At first the boy hung back, but when Andy promised that he would take the responsibility of the coming interview entirely upon his own shoulders, the lad consented to go along.

They were gone nearly an hour, and during that time Matt heard some pretty loud talking through the partition which separated the two stores. But when Andy and Tom Inwold came back he saw by their faces that they had triumphed.

“At first Gissem was in for facing me down,” said Andy. “Said he had nothing to do with the boy, and all that. But I threatened him with immediate arrest, and promised to have the mother of the boy here to testify against him, and then he weakened, and at length gave Tom thirty dollars, with which to buy a new suit of clothes, a pair of shoes, a hat, and a railroad ticket, upon conditions that he would not be prosecuted. I reckon he was badly scared, too.”

Matt was much pleased. Leaving Andy in charge of the store, he went out to dinner, taking Tom Inwold along with him. After the meal the wearing apparel was purchased and donned, and then they made their way to the depot. Here a ticket for Plainfield was procured, and the young auctioneer saw to it that the boy boarded the proper train.

“I’ll never forget you, never,” said Tom Inwold on parting, and he never has, nor has Mrs. Inwold, who was grateful to the last degree for what Matt had been instrumental in doing for her.

On the following morning, on going down to the store to open up, Andy and Matt saw that the entire stock of the store adjoining had been removed during the night. Gissem had been fearful of trouble, despite what Andy had promised, and had taken time by the forelock, and left for parts unknown. The young auctioneers never met him or his partner again.

By having the entire field to themselves the young auctioneers did a splendid business, and when they were ready to pack up and start for Scranton they found that they had cleared nearly ninety dollars by their stay in Wilkes-Barre.

In the meantime the weather had been growing steadily colder, and they found it necessary to invest in a second-hand robe to keep them warm when driving.

“It looks a bit like snow,” remarked Andy, as they drove out of the city one morning. “I hope we don’t catch it before we reach where we are going to. A snowstorm in the mountains is not a very pleasant thing to encounter.”

“We must run our chances,” returned Matt, and Billy was urged forward, and soon the city outskirts were left far behind.

The sun had shone for awhile, but about nine o’clock it went under a heavy cloud. Then it began to get slightly warmer, and Andy was certain that snow was coming.

His prediction was fulfilled. By ten o’clock it was snowing furiously, and by eleven the ground was covered to the depth of half a foot.

“That settles it; we can’t make Scranton to-day, nor even Pittston,” said Matt. “We had better hunt up some sort of a house with a barn attached, where we can put up.”

But Andy was for continuing the journey, so onward they went, until at last, just before the noon hour, they found the road getting too heavy for Billy. They went down into a hollow which the falling snow had covered, and there the wagon remained, despite every effort to budge it.

They looked around in some dismay. Not even a house nor a building of any sort was in sight.

“This is a pretty pickle,” muttered Andy. “I wish we had followed your advice and sought shelter.”

“We’ve got to do something,” returned Matt. “If we stay here we’ll be completely snowed under. The snow is coming down thicker every minute. What’s to be done?”

Ah! what was to be done? That was a question not easy to answer. Both of the young auctioneers were much disturbed.

CHAPTER XXXVI.
LOST IN THE SNOW

It was not a pleasant outlook, stuck in a deep hollow on the road with the snow coming down furiously. Already the ground was covered to the depth of a foot or more, and around the heavily-laden wagon a drift was forming which soon reached above the axles.

“We must do something, that’s certain,” muttered Matt, as he sprang to Billy’s head for at least the fifth time. “Come, old fellow, can’t you stir it up a bit?”

Andy ran to the back of the wagon and placed his shoulder against the case there strapped on. But though the two and Billy, the horse, did their best, the auction wagon remained where it was.

“It’s no use,” groaned Andy, as he stopped to catch his breath. “We are stuck as hard as if we were planted here, and it looks as if we would have to remain here for some time.”

“We must move on,” returned Matt desperately. “In a few hours night will be coming on, and we’ll be completely covered.”

“The snow is coming down faster than ever, and the wind is rising. Maybe we are going to have a blizzard. If we do, Heaven help us!”

“Let us take those cases of goods off,” suggested the young auctioneer after a moment of thought. “That will lighten the load for Billy somewhat.”

The big packing boxes were unstrapped and let down in the snow. They were followed by every other article which could be removed from the turn-out without damage.

Then Billy was once more urged to go on, Matt and Andy pushing with all their strength in the meanwhile. The wheels of the wagon and the axles creaked and then moved forward slowly.

“Hurrah! we’ve got it started!” shouted Matt joyfully. “Get up, Billy! get up!”

And the horse really did strain every muscle until, two minutes later, the wagon was out of the hollow and up on the ridge of a little hill.

“Thank fortune we are out of that!” exclaimed Andy. “Now what is to be done?”

“We had better strap the cases in place again and continue on our way.”

“The cases are awfully heavy. I wonder if we can’t hide them somewhere and come back for them later? The snow is not melting, so that won’t hurt them.”

The matter was talked over, and finally they decided to leave the two cases, which had not been opened, and were well packed, under a big tree near the roadside. The cases were removed to the spot without delay, placed upon a couple of dead trees and covered with brush.

Then they moved on again, Andy leading the horse, and Matt going on ahead to inspect the road, and thus avoid getting into another hollow.

It was bitterly cold, and having nothing but a light overcoat on, the young auctioneer was chilled to the bone. He was compelled to caper about and clap his hands continually to keep from being frozen. The snow, now fine and hard, beat into his face mercilessly, and to protect himself from this he pulled his hat far down over his eyes, and tied his handkerchief over his mouth and nose.

But the hardships of the storm were not to be endured for long. A quarter of a mile further on they came to a large farmhouse, situated some little distance back from the road. In the rear was a barn and a cow-shed.

Running ahead, Matt knocked upon the door of the house. It was opened by an elderly farmer, who was smoking, and who held a paper in his hand.

“Good-afternoon,” said the young auctioneer. “Can we get shelter here for ourselves and our horse? We are willing to pay for the accommodation.”

“What’s the matter? Caught on the road?” returned the farmer pleasantly.

“Yes, sir,” and Matt briefly narrated the particulars.

“Drive right around to the barn,” were the farmer’s welcome words. “I’ll open up for you and make your horse comfortable enough.”

And reaching for his hat and coat, he put them on and came outside.

Andy was not slow to drive Billy into shelter. The barn was a large one, and far from filled, and the wagon went in without difficulty.

As soon as the horse had been cared for, the young auctioneers followed the farmer back to the house. The family had just finished their dinner, but set to work at once to prepare food for the half-frozen and exhausted travelers.

While Matt and Andy were warming up they told the farmer about the cases which had been left on the road.

“I suppose they ought not to be left there too long,” said Andy. “If I had a light wagon and a pair of strong horses I would go after them as soon as I’ve had something to eat.”

“Don’t you mind; I’ll go after ’em for you,” said the farmer. “I’ve got Sam and Bess, and they can pull through most anything. Perhaps after you’ve had dinner it will be too late.”

“Well, if you get them we will pay you whatever it is worth,” returned Matt’s partner.

The farmer set about the trip without delay, and just as Andy and Matt were called to the dining-table he drove out of the yard.

The meal was a good one, there being plenty to eat and all of it well served. To the two half-famished ones it seemed to be about the best meal they had ever tasted.

After it was over they sat down by the fire and began to chat with the farmer’s wife, a motherly creature of the same age as her husband. Every five minutes Matt would walk to the window to see if the farmer was yet returning.

It was nearly an hour before Mr. Pearsall, for such was the farmer’s name, drove up to the door. Matt and Andy ran out to meet him, and were relieved to learn that the cases of goods had been brought in good condition. They were taken around to the barn and there transferred to their original places on the auction wagon.

Mr. Pearsall was curious to know something of their business, and when they were once more in the house the two young auctioneers told their story, to which both the farmer and his wife listened with deep interest.

As it continued to snow, Matt and Andy decided to remain at the farmhouse over night, and arrangements were made to that effect. They spent a pleasant evening, and all hands retired early.

In the morning, much to their joy, they found that the snow had stopped coming down, and that the sun was shining brightly. They had an early breakfast, and then, after settling with Mr. Pearsall, who did not wish cash, but took goods his wife desired instead, they set off for Pittston, which was scarcely half a mile distant.

Billy had had a good rest, and the city mentioned above was reached in a short while. Here they arranged for an extra horse, that was hitched up in front of their own. In this manner they started for Scranton with more confidence.

The road was as rocky and uneven as before, but it being bright and clear, they were enabled to avoid hollows with ease. They stopped at Taylor for dinner, and arrived in Scranton an hour before nightfall, tired out, but happy to think that their journey, for the balance of the week at least, was over.

As soon as they had settled in a vacant store Matt left Andy in charge and hurried to the post-office, to look for a letter from Ida Bartlett. He was not disappointed; the letter was there, and he read it with deep interest.

“Since receiving your letter,” she wrote, “I have been watching Mr. Fenton closely, and I am satisfied that he is much disturbed over the fact that Mr. Gaston has left his employ and that he was threatened with exposure. I have also taken the liberty to write to Mr. Gaston, but have, as yet, received no reply. Will write again as soon as he answers. It is a pity you cannot find out what became of your poor father and the papers.”