Young Auctioneers: or, The Polishing of a Rolling Stone

CHAPTER X.
ON THE ROAD AT LAST

Had the blacksmith spoken with more real concern, Matt would have believed what he said, but there was that in the fellow’s manner which tended to make the boy suspicious.

“How long ago was it that the colored man left the horse?” he asked, after a pause.

“Not more than an hour ago.”

“An hour?”

“About that, as near as I can remember. I’ve been rather busy this morning.”

“That horse did not get away until about fifteen minutes ago,” returned Matt coldly.

“Oh, you must be mistaken,” returned the blacksmith smoothly.

“No, I am not mistaken,” replied Matt, and his tones began to grow sharper. “He just got away from me, after I rescued him from a burning stable. He is my horse, and I intend to take him away.”

As Matt spoke he crossed the blacksmith shop to where a doorway led to the little yard beyond.

“Hold up there!” cried the blacksmith roughly. “You are not going out there!”

“Yes, I am, and you can’t stop me,” returned Matt spiritedly. “I own that horse, or at least I own a half-interest in him, and if you dare to molest me you’ll get into trouble.”

“Will I?” sneered the blacksmith.

“Yes, you will. If you stop me, I’ll call in the police.”

At these words the blacksmith’s face fell. Evidently he had not anticipated that a mere boy would take such a decided stand.

“Yes, but that colored man – ” he began, more mildly.

“If there was a colored man in the case, you can explain matters to suit yourself. As for me, I believe you caught the horse yourself and wanted to do what you could to keep him.”

“How dare you!” cried the blacksmith, with a threatening gesture. “Do you take me for a thief?”

“Never mind what I take you for. That is my horse, and I am going to take him away.”

And undaunted by the blacksmith’s manner, Matt marched out into the yard, and untied Billy, who was covered with sweat, and still trembling from fright.

“It’s playing a bold game you are,” grumbled the man of the anvil, as the boy led the horse through the blacksmith-shop toward the front door. “I reckon you think you are mighty smart.”

“One has to be smart to deal with such a man as you!” retorted Matt. “Had you done the fair thing at the start, I might have rewarded you for stopping the horse, but as it is, I don’t believe you deserve a cent.”

And with this parting shot, which, by the way was fully deserved by the dishonest blacksmith, Matt sprang upon Billy’s back and rode off.

When the boy reached the alleyway again he found that the fire department had gotten the fire under control, and that much of the crowd of people had gone on about their business. In the space around the wagon several cabmen were busy getting out their horses and cabs, all thankful that their turnouts and animals had not been consumed by the conflagration, which had all but leveled the great stable to the ground.

Andy was seated on the wagon, anxiously awaiting his return. While the two harnessed Billy into place, Matt told his partner of the trouble he had experienced.

“That blacksmith meant to bluff you off and keep the horse,” said the auctioneer. “If you hadn’t come back soon I would have gone off after you.”

“Is the wagon damaged?” questioned Matt anxiously.

“Not in the slightest. I have examined everything carefully. And the stock is O. K. too. We can start off just as if nothing had happened.”

“But we haven’t decided yet as to just where we are to go,” returned the boy.

“Oh, that reminds me!” cried Andy. “I meant to tell you before, but the fire drove it clean out of my head. I saw a fellow yesterday who is going to strike out up through Harlem to-morrow. He was going to take the very route I had thought out. So I was going to propose that we take the ferry over to Jersey City, and strike out through New Jersey first.”

“Well, one way will suit me just as well as another,” returned Matt. “So New Jersey it is.”

In less than five minutes later they were ready to start. The owner of the stable, nearly distracted over his loss, was around, and into his hand they thrust the money they owed him. Then Matt procured his valise, and without waiting to be questioned by the police and the firemen any more than was necessary, they drove off.

“Not a very favorable start,” was Andy’s comment, as the scene of the conflagration was left behind. “But they say ‘a bad beginning makes a good ending,’ so we ought not to lose heart.”

“Lose heart!” cried Matt lightly. “No, indeed! I am thankful we are able to start, even though we do look like a couple of tramps,” he added with a grin.

“We’ll take a wash-up when we are across the ferry. We’ll have lots of time, for we won’t be able to do any business to-day. We must get at least twenty or thirty miles from New York before we attempt to open up.”

The drive down to Cortlandt street ferry was an uneventful one through the crowded streets. A boat had just come in when they reached the ferry-house, and after paying the fare, they drove upon this, and were soon on their way to the New Jersey shore.

“Do you know the road?” asked Matt, as they tied up upon an open street on the other side, and went into the great ferry-house to wash and brush up.

“I know the roads through Newark and Elizabeth,” returned Andrew Dilks. “I think we had better strike along the New Jersey Central Railroad as far as Bound Brook or Somerville, and then strike through Flemington, and across to the Delaware River, and so on into Pennsylvania.”

“That suits me,” returned Matt.

It was exactly half-past ten o’clock when they left the vicinity of the ferry in Jersey City, and moved off toward the old plank road, so called, which leads to Newark, five miles distant. Both were in excellent spirits, despite the thrilling experience through which they had passed.

“I have here a list of all the articles we have in stock,” said Andy, as he set Billy on a brisk trot. “You had better study it. The prices are also put down, and of course, we never will auction a thing off for less, unless it is unsalable otherwise and we wish to dispose of it.”

“But supposing a thing is put up and people won’t bid above a certain figure?”

“We will buy it in ourselves, or get some one to bid for us, or else refuse to take a bid under a certain sum.”

Matt took the sheet of paper, and resting on the box in the back of the wagon, began to study it carefully, and so absorbed did he become that he did not notice when Newark was reached, and was only aroused when Andy drew up in front of a restaurant and asked him if he did not feel like having some dinner.

“You can just bet I do!” exclaimed Matt. “The fire and the drive have made me as hungry as a bear.”

The restaurant was not a very large place, and but few customers were present. They ordered what they wished, and it was soon brought to them.

“I didn’t want to go to one of those high-toned places where they charge big prices,” observed Andy, as he began to fall to. “We can’t afford to cut a spread until we see how our venture is going to pan out.”

“You are right there,” returned Matt. “As it is, I think our supply of cash is getting mighty low.”

“I notice the knives and forks are rather rusty here,” went on Andy. “I wonder if I can’t sell the proprietor some table cutlery. We have some on board that is both cheap and good.”

“I’d try it by all means,” cried Matt heartily.

So when the meal was concluded Andrew Dilks walked up to the proprietor, who was also cashier, and paid their bill. Then he asked the man if he did not think some new knives and forks would be appreciated by his customers.

“I have no doubt but what they would be,” returned the restaurant keeper. “But they cost too much money, and times are rather hard.”

“I can sell you some cheap,” returned Andy, and he mentioned his price.

The restaurant man smiled.

“Too cheap to be good,” he said. “I must have some that will stand the wear.”

“Let me show you them. Matt, go out and bring in a few dozen of the No. 23 knives and forks, and also some of the X23 spoons,” went on Andy briskly.

Matt at once complied, and his partner continued to talk to the restaurant keeper, thus keeping his attention. When the articles were brought Andy invited the prospective purchaser to make a thorough examination of them.

“Send a couple down to the kitchen and have them scoured. They are triple-plated, and will stand it,” he added.

Andy’s business-like way pleased the restaurant keeper, and after a little more talk he purchased three dozen each of knives and forks and two dozen spoons.

The price was paid over, and both Andy and Matt were congratulating themselves on their good luck, when a man who had been standing near the window of the restaurant peering in stepped inside and tapped both on the shoulder.

“I would like to see your license for selling,” he said sternly.

CHAPTER XI.
HARSH TREATMENT

Both Matt and Andy were considerably taken aback by the unexpected demand of the stranger. When they had come to Newark they had not expected to sell anything, and therefore had not given the question of a license a single thought.

“Excuse me, but I am sorry to state we have no license,” returned Andy frankly. “We did not expect to make any sales here, but were going straight through to Elizabeth.”

“Very likely,” sneered the man, who was a special officer attached to the police department. “But I saw you make the sale, and you must come with me.”

“Oh, Andy, let us pay the license,” exclaimed Matt, in a low voice, as visions of a week or a month in jail floated before his mind. It would be simply terrible to be locked up.

“That’s what we will have to do,” returned Andy, who had been through such a predicament before, and was not, therefore, greatly alarmed. “Don’t be afraid; we will come out all right. Only it will cost us two or three dollars.”

“I don’t care if it costs fifty – I don’t want to run afoul of the law,” returned Matt bluntly.

“Nor do I,” returned his partner.

“Well, what do you say?” demanded the officer sharply.

“We will go with you and pay the license,” replied Andy.

“All right.”

“Will you ride with us?”

“Don’t care if I do,” said the officer, and all three hopped on the wagon seat, and Matt drove off.

The office where licenses could be procured was at the City Hall, on Broad Street. When they turned into that thoroughfare Matt uttered a cry of surprise.

“What a broad street!” he exclaimed, as he surveyed it.

“It is one of the broadest in any eastern city,” returned the officer, who seemed inclined to be more friendly now that they had shown a disposition to do the right thing.

Inside of the City Hall they were compelled to wait near half an hour before they could procure their license. Then they were asked for how long a term they desired it.

“For to-day only,” returned Andy, and so it was made out and as quickly paid for.

“Oh, but I’m glad we are out of that scrape so easily!” murmured Matt, as the two walked back to their wagon. “I was afraid they would lock us up for ten days or a month.”

“They would have their hands full locking up all the peddlers who try to sell goods without a license,” laughed Andy. “All they care for is the money.”

“We will have to pay in almost every town we go, won’t we?”

“Yes, every town. Some places charge so much that we won’t try to sell in them. I’ll make it a point after this to find out about a license as soon as we enter a place.”

“Yes, do that by all means,” returned Matt, much relieved.

Now that they had a license good for the balance of the day, Matt moved that they remain in Newark and try to make more sales.

“Let us try all the restaurants,” he said. “We may be able to sell more of those knives and forks and spoons.”

“I am willing,” said Andy. “This isn’t exactly auctioneering, but it pays just as well, so we have no cause to grumble.”

They turned back into the business portion of the city and drove along slowly until two restaurants, directly opposite to each other, were reached.

“I’ll take one and you can take the other,” said Andy. “Be sure and sell all you can,” he added, with a laugh.

Matt nodded, and with half a dozen samples under his arm, he entered the restaurant on the right.

It must be confessed that the boy’s heart beat rather fast. This was the first time he had endeavored to effect a sale solely on his own responsibility. Moreover, Andy was pitted against him, trying to sell goods in a similar way to similar people.

“I must do as well as he,” thought Matt. “If I don’t he may imagine I am not worthy of being an equal partner in the concern.”

The place Matt had entered was handsomely fitted up in the latest style. It was quite large, but at this hour of the day was but scantily patronized. In the back half a dozen waiters were discussing the merits of certain race horses, while behind the cashier’s desk a young man, with an enormous diamond, was reading a copy of a sensational weekly.

A waiter rushed forward to conduct Matt to a seat at one of the tables, but the boy shook his head and turned to the desk.

“Can I see the proprietor?” he asked.

The clerk had laid down his paper and gave Matt an ugly stare before replying.

“So you are another one of them,” he said slowly, as he surveyed the boy from head to foot.

Matt was somewhat mystified by this, but smiled pleasantly.

“I suppose I am – if you say so,” he said. “Did you say the proprietor was in?”

“No, I didn’t say so. Say, you’ll wish you hadn’t come here if old Mattison gives you a chance,” went on the young man, in a lower voice.

“Why will I wish that?” questioned Matt, more mystified than ever.

“Because he’s a tough customer to get along with.”

“But if my goods and the price suit, why, it ought to be all right.”

“Goods and price? What are you talking about?” demanded the young man quickly.

“The goods I have to sell – knives, forks, and spoons.”

“Oh, pshaw! I thought you were another of those chumps that want my place here. Old Mattison gave me notice to quit next Saturday, and put an advertisement in the paper for a new clerk, and there have been about a dozen here already.”

“And none of them suit?”

“Suit! He’s a man that is never suited.”

“Then perhaps I won’t be able to sell him any goods,” returned Matt, his heart sinking.

“It ain’t likely. Business is poor, and he ain’t buying more than he can help. You can try him, though.”

“Where is he?”

“I’ll call him.”

The young man behind the desk rang the bell for one of the waiters, and sent that individual upstairs for the proprietor. The waiter was gone nearly five minutes before he returned, accompanied by a short, stout man, with bushy black hair and a heavy beard.

“Well, sir, what can I do for you?” asked the man of Matt.

“If you are not too busy I would like to show you some goods which are both good and very cheap,” returned Matt, as easily as he could, and without waiting for a reply he unrolled his package of samples, and placed them upon the desk.

“And is that what you called me downstairs for?” cried the proprietor of the restaurant, in a rage. “Make me throw down a good hand at cards just to look at a lot of tin knives and forks! You peddlers are getting more bold every day. The police ought to sit down on every one of you!”

“I am sorry if I disturbed your leisure,” returned Matt, as mildly as he could. “But, I thought – ”

“You thought you would just like to cheat me into buying a lot of your trash,” finished the restaurant proprietor. “Well, you can’t do anything of the kind, and you can take that for your impudence!”

And hastily gathering up the package of samples, the restaurant keeper walked to the open doorway and flung knives, forks and spoons into the muddy gutter!

CHAPTER XII.
MATT STANDS UP FOR HIMSELF

It was evident, by the self-satisfied look upon the restaurant-keeper’s face, that the hot-tempered man supposed that he had done a very smart thing in thus disposing of Matt’s wares by throwing the bundle into the muddy gutter of the street.

“Now pick up your goods and skip out!” he cried, as he turned to the boy. “And the next time you be careful how you disturb folks when they are trying to take it a little easy!”

For the instant Matt was stupefied, and stood still, hardly moving a muscle.

Then the boy’s natural temper arose to the surface, and for the moment he felt as if he must fly at the man and pound him in the face just as hard as he could. His face grew first red and then deadly pale. The man saw the change in his countenance, saw the fire flash in the boy’s eyes, and stopped short just as he was about to repeat his injunction to leave the establishment.

“You are a – a brute!” exclaimed Matt, stepping forward with clinched fists.

“What’s that?” cried the restaurant-keeper, so loudly that several customers and a number of the waiters gathered round to learn the cause of the trouble.

“I say you are a brute!” repeated Matt, undaunted by the fierce look the restaurant-keeper had assumed. “If you did not wish to buy from me you could have said so. There was no need for you to throw my goods in the gutter.”

“Shut up and clear out!” growled the man. “I want no back talk from the likes of you. Do you suppose I buy from beggars and thieves?”

“I am neither a beggar nor a thief!” returned Matt striding still closer. “And I won’t allow you nor any one else to say so.”

“Oh, you won’t?” sneered the man.

“No, I won’t,” answered Matt firmly. “My business is just as honest and honorable as yours, even though I may not make such enormous profits,” he added, bound in some way to “get square.”

“See here, are you going to get out, or must I pitch you out?” howled the man more savagely than ever.

For the moment Matt did not reply. He was very angry, but knew it would do him more harm than good to lose his temper. Yet he was not the person to allow the insults he had received to pass unnoticed.

“I will get out just as soon as you restore my goods to me,” he said. “You had no right whatever to throw them into the gutter and soil them.”

“What?”

“And let me say, too, that I expect my goods to come back to me just as clean as they were when you took them.”

“You say another word and I’ll stand you on your head!” fumed the proprietor of the restaurant, but the look in Matt’s eyes kept him from laying hands upon the boy.

“If you dare to touch me I’ll call in the police,” replied Matt, more sharply than ever. “I have a license, and by that license the police are bound to protect me. Now, you get my goods back for me and I’ll leave.”

“I’ll see you in Jericho first!”

“Very well; but remember, if anything is lost or damaged, you’ll pay the bill.”

“Good for the boy!” exclaimed one of the men who had just been lunching in the place. “I like to see a fellow stick up for his rights.”

“See here, I want no outside interference here!” blustered the restaurant-keeper. “I am fully capable of attending to this affair myself.”

“Well, I’m going to see that the boy gets a show,” returned the other coolly, as he paid the amount of his check and lit a cigar taken from his pocket. “I don’t think it was a fair deal to throw his stuff in the gutter.”

“It wasn’t,” put in another customer. “He’s got to make a living, just the same as all of us.”

“Oh, don’t talk!” cried the restaurant-keeper, waving them away with his hand. “Come, now, no more talk!” he went on to Matt. “Go, before I have you thrown out.”

“I won’t budge a step, excepting it is to call the police,” returned Matt, more firmly than ever, now that he saw he had friends in the crowd. “I’ll give you just five minutes to give me back my goods.”

The restaurant-keeper began to bluster and threaten, and even sent a waiter out, ostensibly to call in a policeman. But Matt was not frightened, and in the end another waiter was sent to gather up the sample goods, wipe them off and restore them to the boy.

“Good for you, boy!” said one of the customers, as he followed Matt out upon the sidewalk. “Always stick up for your rights,” and he nodded pleasantly and passed on.

When Matt reached the wagon he found Andy had not yet come back. He accordingly looked around, and seeing another restaurant about half a block further down the street entered it.

He found the proprietor behind the desk, laughing quietly to himself. He had heard of what had happened in his neighbor’s place, and was immensely tickled thereby.

“Hullo! ain’t you the boy that had the row with Mattison?” he exclaimed in surprise.

“I had some trouble with that man,” said Matt. “But it was not my fault, I can assure you.”

“You came out ahead, didn’t you? Ha! ha! ha! It does me good to hear it. Tell me how the row started.”

Matt did so, and was compelled to go into all the details, to which the man listened with keen interest.

“Served him right! He can get along with nobody. But you are a clever one, too.”

“Thank you,” replied Matt.

And then he began to talk business, showing up his somewhat bedimmed samples to the best possible advantage, and quoting prices in a manner that made the restaurant-keeper think he was an old hand at the business.

The man was not particularly in need of anything, but he liked Matt’s way, and thought it was worth something to have a good story to tell to his rival’s discredit. He bought four dozen triple-plated spoons and a carving-knife, and then Matt persuaded him to invest in a new toothpick holder, and a match holder of aluminum, which were both very pretty and cheap.

“Just an even seven dollars!” thought Matt, as he hurried back to the wagon. “I don’t think that so bad. Our profits on that sale ought to be at least two dollars.”

Andy was waiting for him. He had sold, after a good deal of hard talking, a dozen knives and forks, upon which he had been forced to make a slight discount. He listened to Matt’s story in amazement.

“Seven dollars’ worth! That’s fine, Matt! You must be a born salesman. Keep right on, by all means.”

“But I don’t expect any such luck every time,” returned the boy, and then he told the story of his troubles in the first restaurant he had visited.

“It was plucky in you to stick out as you did,” was Andy’s comment. “I don’t believe I could have done it. I would have gone out and picked up the things myself.”

“I wouldn’t, never!” cried Matt, and his whole face showed the spirit within him.

It was only four o’clock in the afternoon, and Andy suggested that they continue to try their luck until sundown. So they drove on down the street slowly, visiting every restaurant and many stores on the way.

In one place Matt sold a dozen spoons, and in another a fancy water-pitcher. Andy sold some spoons also, and a cheap watch and chain, which the buyer explained he intended to sell to some customer for double the money.

At the last place at which they stopped Andy made arrangements to remain all night. A stable was also found for Billy and the wagon, and by eight o’clock the partners found themselves free from business cares. Matt moved that they have supper, and to this Andy willingly agreed.

While the two were waiting for their orders to be filled, Andy brought out a bit of paper and a pencil and began to figure.

“The net receipts for the day were eighteen dollars and a half,” he said, when he had finished. “The goods and the license cost thirteen dollars and sixty cents. That leaves a profit of four dollars and ninety cents, which is not so bad, considering that we only worked about five hours all told.”

“And what were our expenses?” asked Matt.

Andy did a little more figuring.

“Expenses from this morning until to-morrow morning, including this supper, about two dollars and thirty cents.”

“Then we have two dollars and sixty cents over all?”

“Yes, that is, without counting wear and tear on wagon, harness, and so forth.”

“Of course. But that isn’t so bad.”

“Indeed it is not,” returned Andy. “If we do as well as that every day we shall get along very well, although I trust to do even better.”